


The Skyrim Alliance – Z

by BD99



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Companions, Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Friendship/Love, Suffering, Vampires, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 80,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD99/pseuds/BD99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dragons are returning to Skyrim, rising from their ancient slumber. Skyrim is crying for a hero. A warrior of honour, strength, majesty and pure heart. Someone to hug the children and save the puppies, as well as Skyrim.  Instead the get Z. An emotionless assassin, who has disassociated from Skyrim, and into her own world of darkness and murder… And she has never owned a puppy…</p><p>THIS IS TIME WISE THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SERIES, A PREQUEL TO TAI.<br/>LISTED ON FF AS BOOK 1</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Skyrim Alliance – Z

Chapter 1: Destined

“That was too easy” he gruffed, dusting his bloody hands off as he strode down deck to leap off the side, black and burgundy boots landing on the dirt of land. The ice coated ocean beat lightly upon the island, the cove leading into Solitude was split by a span of ocean, he shuddered as he slipped into the cold water.

Arnbjorn was a big man, animalistic with his white hair braided in two locks, the rest falling freely the length reaching to his shoulders. His body was subtly haired, yet furry. His white beard was more kept than the rest of his savage body. His eyes small in a square head with a large nose and mouth. Arnbjorn was not a pretty man, but he held a charm within his amazingly expressive brow. His body was thick, vein covered from overstraining his muscles; the huge steel axe on his back would easily defeat most men in a single swing.

He pulled his feet under him as he strode out of the ocean with a growl, shaking himself off. The water slicked off his strange leather armour with ease, leaving his head and forearms wet from their lack of covering. The sun however was shining in the grey sky as dusk fell, Solitude was not yet aware that the ship would not arrive. The important Imperial General would not arrive in Skyrim’s capital… Alive anyway.

What reached Arnbjorn’s ear shocked him, not that a child was crying but that he felt drawn to the child’s plea. Arnbjorn was not usually bothered by children crying; in fact it made him hungry. He cursed as he felt his feet moving him towards the crying, his eyes on the crib it came from floating in the water. So this was the 26th passenger, a crying baby. Arnbjorn had gotten the guest list, soaked and most of the ink running. The final passenger’s name had been obscured, only the letter Z obvious.  
Arnbjorn crept the tip of his toe against the crib, it somehow flipped, the baby falling into the water. Arnbjorn looked at the bubbles erupting for a few moments before diving in. He had intended to let the babe drown but the cries haunted his mind. His big hands closed around the baby, he gasped as he erupted from the water. He stared down into the silent babies face and sighed. She was beautiful.

Her hair wasn’t even grown, but already he knew she would have hair darker than the void. Her skin was amazingly pale, like the snow gently falling as night blew in. Her face quite rounded her eyes large and innocent. What caught Arnbjorn by surprise however their colour… Their colour was the deepest midnight blue you would ever lay eyes upon. Instantly Arnbjorn knew she was destined for greatness, even his driven wife would agree. 

She could, one day be, the Listener.


	2. Chapter 2 – Growing up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments of Z's childhood.

Chapter 2 – Growing up 

 

Astrid was quick to agree with her husband, seeing the darkness in the innocent bundle he brought back. Three years passed, Z simply grew into the child no one had expected. She held a childish charm, a simple beauty despite her physical features hardly being the most gorgeous of women that Skyrim could offer. Z’s movements were cat like, yet so controlled many grew envious of her natural talent.

Even as a young child Z held a presence which demanded respect and attention. She held something else too, despite her darkness and her family there was an honour about her that could not be ignored. This was cause of great pride, and greater despair.

 

“Play with me” She begged shakily. Her words were few, but her learning was stunning everyone. She was near perfect; often her heritage was brought into question only to be dismissed by an angry Arnbjorn or Astrid.

“Not now Z. Go bother Veezara” Babette, a forever immortal child groaned. She stood at the alchemy table, upon a chair as she focused. Her fangs flashed as she once more failed to create the effect she was looking for.

“But he’s stange” Z stated with a pout. She looked confused by her own words, Babette couldn’t help chuckle. The young Argonian was very strange looking.

Frozen at the age of 10 for 300 years had been a gift for Babette, she was very successful as an assassin and an alchemist.

Her face was rather squared off. Her chin rounded and short with a considerable amount of fat despite her existing as a very lean bodied child. Her eyes were small, glowing slightly orange from her vampirism. Her nose was slightly large, childish but showing early signs of hooking. Her lips were quite full, yet somehow held a slight sneer to them in her relaxed expression. Little scars from her fangs also showed if one looked closely.

“Z, how about you go play with Freddy?” The vampire paused at the look of sadness on the child’s chubby face.

“We can play later”

“Okay” Z smiled happily, struggling to make the words sound more adult. She was already trundling along with a happy skip as Babette returned to her potions with a smile. Z was going to learn more than one lesson about the attitude of goats this day.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Z sat bored in the room, using water and mud to make paintings on the wall. Her art was not good, hand print after handprint in an unorderly fashion. The goat stood at the other side of the room, guarding its food with a cruelty most assassins couldn’t master.

Z pouted as her watery handprint rushed away again when her breath touched it. She looked at the old cave wall, mixed with the man-made stone. She needed colours; Babette was not in the mood to make them. No one had colours… Except Freddy.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“What! You left my daughter with the goat?” Arnbjorn snarled. Babette grinned and nodded.

“He’s chained up” She spoke simply. Astrid shook her head as she began to walk quickly, her boots soundless on the stone floor.

 

Astrid was quite a large, hazel eyed woman. Her face seemed rather small. High cheekbones lead into a hollowed jaw on an angle and a squared off chin. Long lips and a small button nose. Her skin was tanned, slowly turning pale from her profession. Her hair was dirty blonde, braided back professionally yet suggestive enough to hold a man’s attention. Her body was slim, her chest almost non-existent and her hips lean.

“If she is harmed, so help the Night Mother Babette…” Astrid trailed off as she entered the room, Arnbjorn and Babette close on her heels.

Z sat before her wall, hand prints dripping in red all down them. In horror all eyes turned to the goat, its guts slashed and bent to make a smiley face. The blood running down Z’s hands was also across her nose, as she had scratched. It stained her hair and back, she was covered and once more her intent look on the hand prints she was making as if nothing had happened. Just a killing.

“Fucking Oblivion” Arnbjorn mumbled in amazement.

“That’s our girl” Astrid was overjoyed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………  
7 Years Later

 

Z didn’t even gasp as she rose from the freezing water. The magic she wielded was protecting her from the cold, but she still shuddered as the cold air hit her wet hair to the bridge of her nose. She felt the eyeliner running down her face, slightly thicker than the water drops. Her eyes rolled up slightly as she leaned her brow forwards, her eyes intent on the docks of Riften.

She wore the typical leather armour of the dark brotherhood, save she had darkened it all to be black. A black skin tight leather suit that water slicked off, she blended into the shadows yet stood out from a crowed. Her dagger was fastened to her side, the unnamed glass dagger that was to be her first companion.

She smiled. Ten years old and she was allowed to complete her first assassination, positive that somewhere the Argonian Shadowscale Scar-Tail was watching. That assassin had shown better promise as a thief, preferring to discreetly poison his victims rather than draw blood.

Z found Argonians a rather peculiar folk. Their immunity to disease and ability to breathe underwater paired with their stealth skills made them the perfect thief, and a better assassin. Their eyes however were so expressive, crystal almost. She often found herself staring at the nose or teeth of a strange Argonian in wonder.

Z wondered about all races, especially beast folk. She watched from shadows and began mimicking their movements. From watching others move she discovered ways to move herself, to become a better assassin. It was paying off.

Her eyes hit her target, she ducked beneath the water and swum for a while, the water stinging her open eyes. She would regret this later, but for now her mission was important.

Her small hands wrapped around the wooden post of the raised walkway. Flexing each finger she closed her feet around the pole, enjoying how the leather gave way. She shimmied up the pole, ring on her finger ready. She was careful not to touch it, least its poison affect her.

 

She reached the deck, poking her toes into the wooden cracks as her hands pushed against the sides, holding her body flat against the wood. She waited, counting the footsteps and shuffling backwards, waiting for her target, an Elderly Nord Male, to stop walking and stand still, like he always did looking over the bay.

She saw his toes over the edge, she lashed quickly. The ring shot to life and injected the man so swiftly it could have been a bug bite, but no bug could be as deadly.

“Ah. Damn bugs” The man groaned. Z already was shuffling down the pole to the water. She paused, only to pull a nail or two free so the man would fall. She intended to make his chances diminish in a minute.

The man screamed as the board beneath his foot broke, he fell somehow over the beam and into the water Z had already slipped beneath.

She swum beneath the water, her blade freed. She slashed his Achilles tendon, ensuring his death by bleeding out. She swum and placed her hand on his mouth, her other hand around the back of his head, pulling it down into her hand. He was paralysed, unable to resist as Z prevented him losing his air. She waited a minute before her own need for air forced her to release the man. The air rushed from his mouth in a storm of bubbles.

By the time his corpse hit the surface of the water Z was long gone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

6 Years later

Z opened her eyes swiftly, controlling her muscles to remain relaxed. She winced at the scratches down her hips and ass. She paused for a moment, noticing how sticky her body was. She sniffed, this was not her bed. 

The furs were soft, straw beneath a bearskin that was tanned to be tough. On top of that a softer cave bear hide. The fur was resistant to the spikes and horns of an Argonian, yet completely comfortable for a human.

“Veezara?” she whispered quietly, talons breezed across her lower back to wrap around her. She felt a cool chest at her right shoulder, somehow it held warmth. The Argonian skin was a marvel.

“Zee” He carried her name out with a warm affection, his voice rumbling slightly in the soft darkness. Z sighed as she rolled to face him, suddenly self-conscious.

“How long was I asleep?” she whispered, feeling the warm breath brush her face as he chuckled. His breath held little fragrance, something that startled Z was how sweet Argonians smelt.

She smiled in spite of herself, remembering a good night with a gentle man. A perfect first time… once they had been able to work their way around Veezara’s tail and sharp scales. The claws had not been as avoidable; Z's behind was currently baring a high amount of proof. Many would disapprove but as some of the best assassins Z and Veezara could keep themselves quiet, and discreet. 

“Long enough for your wounds to stop bleeding” he whispered apologetically. Z looked, unsure how to comfort him. 

“Pleasure and pain” was all she whispered.

“Hmm. How did I luck out with you?” He asked softly, running his scaled palm down the side of Z’s face. He thoughtlessly pushed aside a lock of coal hair with a soft smile on his reptilian lips.

“You’re the only one I fully trust. I have no idea how a lizard like you managed that” Z teased, her hands brushing his chest softly. She took in the tiny scales, a patch over his heart with larger scales in a deep emerald. She stroked them, fascinated by this small detail of her Argonian.

“We are crazy teens… What will the family say?” Veezara already had an idea.

“We won’t tell them. I’ll be the usual outside of this room” Z responded almost sadly, Veezara smiled.

“Beautiful, aloof and dangerous” he leaned in closer, his cold lips touching her neck. Inside his mouth was hot, his teeth fine and sharp. His tongue was silky, the perfect muscle yet the softness to be almost hypnotic. Able to endure the Argonain mouth yet not tough as old boot leather left to crack.

“Don’t forget shit crazy” Z added whilst pushing Veezara playfully. Veezara’s smile suddenly saddened.

“This is going to be hard” he echoed her inner fears with a barley auditable whisper. Z couldn’t use an expression; she instead gave him a blank look with her eyes saying all. Veezara knew her well enough to understand.

“Pleasure and pain” was all she whispered shuffling out of his arms. 

He watched her dress with a speed only acquired through training. Z was not a slut by any means of the word; she simply had training in her armour. She was able to name every buckle and crease, as such, dressing took her barely a minute where it took most five. He watched her leave as quickly and calmly as she had woken; her walk was only slightly hindered by the scratches on her body. In a flurry of her dark hair she seemed to vanish the moment she opened his door.

“How does she do that?”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Z watched from the shadows. Her eyes were intent on a young assassin potential brought in by some of the Morrowind Assassins. She felt pity for the boy as she gazed into his eyes, which he was not even aware of.

They were bright blue, defiant and brave. The way they were dim suggested a great sorrow within him. Z knew the look of guilt. She had seen it through countless recruits, before they had failed or had to be “dealt with”. She felt nothing for them usually; something about this boy earned her pity.

She saw something behind the attitude he had adopted, there was a softness and respect that nearly stopped Z’s heart. It was so similar to Veezara, save his eyes were crystal pale green.

She smiled in approval at the back paint around his eyes; she looked and assumed it was tattooed. So he was a prisoner, a coal miner who had marked himself. The dirt beneath his nails supported this. 

His entire body was stained with black dirt, almost as if it had been scrubbed into his unnaturally pale skin. The way he squinted suggested he was not use to light. 

“So he has been a slave for years underground”

The boy’s hair was hacked short, his neck still red from a burn. He had been branded.

He was shirtless, skin and bones, his ribs clearly poked from beneath his skin. Despite his malnourishment he had considerable muscle for his age, a result from his labour. Z guessed he was about eight. 

“Bastards” she almost hissed at the thought of the cruel masters.

His feet were bare, callused along the bottom and bruised. He had obviously suffered; his wild look was only outmatched by a controlled guilt. He seemed aware of Z for a moment; he stiffened and peered closer at where Z had been.

She smiled from above the doorway, blended against the cave wall. She continued to listen about the boy. 

He had been caught stealing bread to eat once too often and had become a slave in the mines. He had refused to break and had been branded, and punished. In his pain he had screamed and the mine had fallen in on itself, killing all but the boy.

He had been taken to Morrowind to be trialed for murder when the assassins had saved him, he had no name. Z felt rage as she heard they continued by calling him “boy” for the entire journey. The parents bickered, unable to settle upon an appropriate name. Z stared at the boy, finding her voice she dropped from her perch as she heard them throw an idea out.

“Teinavoh” Veezara suggested. He paused for a moment.

“In honour of Teinavoh of the Third Era. Brother to Ocheevia. Lucian seems wrong for this lad”

Z paused, listening to the mumbles of approval. The boy was still staring where she had been, listening over his shoulder slightly. Z had once more managed to shuffle. She stood in the darkness watching one more, smiling as the boy searched for her. Finally she spoke one name he could use.

“Tai”


	3. Chapter 3 – Malketh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z meets the new assassin, Malketh, and assesses his potential as he accompanies her on a contract.

Z had remembered the boy Tai, something was worthy of him. She had remembered a few people; those whom she remembered had proven useful or important in one way or another.

The newcomer to the family, a Breton named Malketh was also drawing her attention. He was a usual Breton, round faced with warpaint of the Forsworn down his face and a Mohawk with a braided lock dangling over his left temple. His hair was grey, yet he did not appear much older than in his early forties. He was shorter than a Nord, yet tall for a Breton. He was also very well built, expert with a war axe and battle axe. In the Dark Brotherhood armor he appeared almost godly built, for a Breton.

“I comprehend what you are saying, but... You want a child to watch over me?” Malketh sounded polite, yet he was also shocked. Astrid stood with her arms crossed; clearly she was not in the mood for a recruit whining.

“She is the best. I want her to make sure you are worthy of our family” Astrid’s voice was flat, her usual diplomatic tone. Z however knew her mother well enough to see how irritated Astrid was, that meant one thing.

“I have to watch Malketh” She silently cursed, creeping to the arch of the doorway; even in the well-lit arch she found a shadow to completely conceal her. She leaned back with crossed arms, her foot rested against the wall in a somewhat seductive manner, also an intimidating one.

She watched as Malketh turned away, walking towards her with an ugly scowl on his face. She saw confusion in his eyes, overshadowed by deep insult. She couldn’t help imagine herself grinning at this. She would love breaking this man’s view and gaining his loyalty. 

She noted how he walked. A soldier’s gait, not that of an assassin. He was quiet on his feet, but his strides were long for his body, almost over exaggerated. His shoulders always remained high, as did his head. His gaze however was constantly flicking to his surroundings.

“Paranoid. Good. I can work with paranoid”

Z held her breath as Malketh stormed up the stairs. He passed her without a glance back, he was not paying attention.

“Dead” Z spoke simply, Malketh jumped and drew the war axe he had at his belt.

Z’s focus was unbreakable as she kicked his hand, the weapon fell. She ducked, kicking his legs from under him in a simple sweep. She reached her former position and leaned her arm out, casually catching the weapon as Malketh stared.

“What the hell!” He demanded and exclaimed at the same time. His vocal pitch had heightened, almost squeaked behind the growl rippling in his throat. He coughed afterwards, rubbing bellow his adams apple. Z couldn’t help notice the scar.

“Throat slit. Impressive you survived, Malketh” she nodded on his name, raising her brow to add a dynamic. Not that she could be clearly seen. Malketh seemed shocked for a moment, then he spoke.

“Do you know where I can find Zed?”

“It is pronounced Zee, although with a single letter I can understand your confusion” Z smiled calmly, stepping forwards from the shadows to allow Malketh to size her. The look of uncontained shock that flooded his features was rewarding to Z. His eyes roamed her quickly; his gaze lacked the usual lust of some male, and female, recruits.

“You’re just a child” Malketh stated in an unreadable tone. Z assumed there was shock, anger, insult and a deep pity. She hated pity.

“Don’t be fooled by my age and looks, I could kill you or anyone here without even trying. I’ve had a lifetime of experience” Z stated calmly. She was trying to keep her stance natural; she knew how easily she intimidated recruits. She understood their fear, it was logical. 

 

She was a reasonable looking woman with a soft curved chin leading into a more rectangular face, her jaw high yet perfect, her nose almost small and adorable, lush full lips painted black. A natural brow, thin eyebrows and eyes so dark and deep that many found themselves lost in her glare.

She was a reasonably slim young lady, wide shouldered but leading into a slender waist and nice curves, all held with little left to the imagination in tight black leather armour. She was also a reasonable height, not tall but by no stretch of the imagination short.

 

“A few years is not a lifetime” Malketh mumbled, Z was having none of it.

“Sixteen years Malketh. I have been trained since birth to be an assassin. My youth is not a reflection of my skill” Z began to walk past the man, noticing how he naturally moved.

“Pray you never have to find out just how skilful” She had paused, speaking over her shoulder. Without a moments lingering she continued up the stairs to the stone entrance and the black door.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Markarth. City of stone. Built by the dwarves and in a war with the Forsworn. The city of The Reach. On the boarder to High Rock, land of Bretons. Built into the mountain, an almost perfect city to defend.

Z and Malketh silently dismounted their horses, neither wishing to say a word to the other. The ride had been a casual one, Malketh had been impatient to arrive and complete the job, it was Z who had forced him to take his time and memorise the contact.

What scared Malketh was the steed Z rode, she called him Shadow. The horse was unnatural, black in shadows but a dark brown in the suns rays. Thick and tall, perfectly balanced body proportions. He seemed overly intelligent and resilient as well. The steed was a handsome stallion, save his eyes. Glowing red with an immoral hunger.

Malketh’s own steed was a sturdy grey, fleet overall and shivering. The horse was like lightning, amazingly versatile and agile. Something didn’t sit right with how collected the beast was though, Malketh had never liked horses.

He had been forced to wear miners clothing over his armour, which was very tight and uncomfortable. His giveaway were the boots they had been unable to hide, he also wore a cloak with a hood pulled up.

He walked right up to the guard, memorising what Z had said. She was suddenly nowhere to be seen. It scared him how she simply vanished.

“Halt! What is your business in Markarth?” The guard demanded. Malketh gave him a warm smile as he lifted his head, trying to master the chilling manner of Z.

“I’m just here for a drink”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Z stood in the shadows, her eyes fluttering across the features of the people passing. She walked casually, bumping through the thick crowd. She felt the intense heat from the tight quarters, smelt the unwashed workmen of the mines, the burn flesh and leather of a blacksmith. Voices were carrying, each storeman trying to sell his wares. She heard the faint fall of a hammer on anvil, the churning of a water wheel, the barking of dogs. 

Sunlight touched her.

Z froze for just a moment, her body moved but her mind did not. For one instant she was a normal woman, shopping in the streets and enjoying everyday life. For a moment she wore a pretty dress and her hair was braided back, Veezara laughing beside her as he handed her flowers. Z smiled.

He would hand her simple yellow flowers and thistle, a beautiful array of colours with a nightshade in the middle. Reality once more came crashing back.

The sunlight was obscured once more by cloud; Z knew her place and knew the dreams could never be. She was not a person, but a weapon, a killer for hire. An assassin. As the sunlight returned, Z danced away through the crowds and into the shadows once more.

What else could she do?

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

The contact was a woman. Breton. Deep skinned, more so than the usual Breton. She rounded face with small plump lips that begged to be touched and heart melting eyes. She had green face paint on her highlighting her cheeks.

Her eyes were red from crying, puffy even. She wore a look of great loss and shame. She was in a simple brown dress, leather pouches at her hip. Malketh’s eyes were stuck upon the woman ordering a meal, she was something different to the women of the Forsworn, yet she held a soft defiance. She did not need violence to be strong.

Malketh took a calming sip of his mead before rising. He walked elegantly to the woman’s side, his shoulder brushing her. Instantly she looked uncomfortable.

“Can I help you sir?” her voice was high, somewhat grating yet somehow it held Malketh spellbound. It did not match her looks, something that shocked him.

“We share a friend in common. I would rather we speak in private” he finally found his words, the saw the look of disbelief on the woman’s face.

“Riiiiggghhhhht…. I’ve heard that line before” The woman scoffed.

“Look. I’m not interested, all I want…”

“I’m here to attend to that detail. My listening is very good, and I would love to murder any bastard that dare insult such a woman as yourself” Malketh stated calmly.

“You’re sweet, but I’m not interested. I’m sorry. Leave me alone” The woman didn’t even look to him.

“May I at least know a name?” he whispered softly. The woman answered on instinct.

“Muiri”

“Muiri” He whispered softly, his tone admiring how the name rolled from his tongue.

“My name is Malketh” he smirked as he pulled the nightshade from his pocket.

“Forgive my forwardness, but a beautiful flower for a beautiful woman” he concluded. Her fingers closed around the flower absently as she stared into the fireplace, when her eyes travelled down to her hand a small smile filled her face.

Malketh was watching from the doorways into the main hall as Muiri smiled at the flower, her fingers delicately curled. Malketh was proud of his subtle clue, the flower of Assassins, a flower of great beauty and toxicity.

It took a few minutes for Muiri to turn to look at the intent Malketh. His hood revealed the braided lock of grey that drew shock into her expression. Malketh held a stern expression, a slight twinkle in his bright eyes. 

He watched how Muiri walked, how she moved. She was soft, almost weighted down in her slouched shoulders and lowered eyes. She held no real regard for her looks, choosing to completely avoid the usual sway of her hips. 

“Something she is forcing herself to stop” Malketh noted.

She stopped beside him, her eyes fixed on his as she gave a shy nod. Malketh followed close behind her as she led him down the halls towards her room, her fingers still brushing the petals of Nightshade. Malketh grinned; she was still shocked that he had turned up.

They stopped before a door, Muiri seemed anxious as she opened it. Her short scream rung through Malketh’s ears as he gripped her shoulders. He was trying to reassure her, but also, he was trying to contain her reaction. 

The room was dim; candles positioned to hide the circle revealing Muiri had performed the Black Sacrament. In the middle of the circle was a chair, the shadowy Z sat with her left ankle on her right knee, leaning back casually with an arm over the old chair that shouldn’t have been there.

“You’re late” She said simply. Z was in her leather armor, her hood was pulled up to cover her identity along with a metal mast over her lower face.

“How did you…?” Muiri was lost for words, her voice trailing into a frightened whimper.

“I’m myself. I always do exactly what I need to. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, we are here to attend your needs. What do you want?”

“What do I want? What I want is for Alain Dufont to die!” She shrieked. Thus planning begun.

 

………………………………………………………………………………..

Z smiled as she stalked down the hall, skulking in the shadows. Every torch was a change to her cover, her movements. Z had no identifying motions because none were truly hers. She was the perfect vessel of skill, looks, charm and memory. She was fit, her mind sharper than her blade, her tongue sharper still when she choose to allow her voice to be heard. Her body was not even in its prime and she could easily outfight men three times her size. Even with her skills she held no identity. Sometimes this bothered her, most of the time she felt nothing.

“Focus on the task ahead” The strange woman’s voice entered her mind. It always entered her mind when she hunted, praising and encouraging. Z silently snapped at the voice.

“I can’t when you keep making me seem like a lunatic!”

“Take my advice as you will” The voice was not in the mood for debate. It amused Z an inner voice could have a mood different to hers.

“Fuck! Get out of my head”

“And go where, my child?”

“Up someone else’s arse”

“You mistake your head for your behind?”

“You’re making me sound bad” Z almost screamed but controlled her inner conversation. The ruins were far from abandoned. Alain’s group of thugs had made themselves quite at home.

“They have relaxed too much” Z gloated as she sneaked closer. 

Her feet were soundless, almost floating as she moved on her toes, her finger tips taking some weight as well. She was crawling, moving swiftly and quietly. She winced at the cool metal of her dagger against her teeth. She still held it as she approached the first bandit, sitting idly in a chair with his food on his lap.

“Kill, my child. Send them all to the void!” The voice in her head spoke again. This time Z chuckled.

With a quick slash across the man’s neck she began.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Malketh rose from the snowy log as Z walked to him, dragging a bound man behind her as if he weighed nothing. The man was fairly uninjured, his face covered with a hood. Z was dragging him by his bound wrists, his feet were also bound together to prevent his struggling.

“These thugs led us on quite the chase didn’t they?” Malketh grinned as Z threw the man down at his feet like a sack of rags.

“They did” Z answered simply, kneeling down to pull the hood from Alain.

“Ah! Who are you? What the fuck do you want?” The bound man demanded. Z simply drew her dagger with a promising look, which travelled down his throat to his crotch. Alain went pale; the words froze in his throat.

“We are here for Muiri’s sake” Malketh answered as Z backed away. 

“Oh! The stupid whore? She was a good bed, but not worth writing about” The look that flashed into Alain’s eyes forced Malketh to look to Z. She held her thoughts for a moment.

“It was a fun night, ruining her life” Alain added, Z allowed herself to nod. Malketh’s grin became extremely cold, something that earned a grin from Z. She saw the magic forming, magic long lost to most in Skyrim. She turned and walked away, listening to the screams as Malketh practiced his art.

……………………………………………………………………

“The extra kill is mine too Z!” Malketh yelled, hushing his voice as several people in the inn looked to him. He lowered his head as Z took an unapologetic sip of her water.

“You’re style is far too aggressive for this. The family has been through enough, I will make it quick and painless” Z took a second sip of water, watching the shock flood Malketh’s face with concealed glee. 

“I never realised you care” he justified his shock.

“Potential clients for the Thieves Guild. If the family is too distraught then they will not employ their services, if they are relaxed then they may choose to forgive. The death is opportune, for both out business with the Thieves Guild, and with Muiri” 

Z watched Malketh’s face as she sat back, her eyes flickering to the target nearby. The pretty Nord woman was barely out of her twenties, reasonably wealthy despite her simple garb. She was proud, clearly emotionally hurt.

Z rose as she left the inn and her father, Candlehall was well respected. By the time anyone bothered to look to see if the young maiden was with Malketh Z had vanished into shadow, her hood pulled up and daggers sheathed.

………………………………………………………………………

The cold wind bit at Z’s concealed face, forcing her to pull her hood up. Her left hand rose, thumb and pointer holding the thin material of her hood as she held it down, her wrist blocking her left eye for a fraction of a second.

She winced at the snow crunching under her boots. Winter in Windhelm was always the worst time of year. Footprints were left; blood trails left, noises made. Z hated winter. She enjoyed the cold, the challenge of it all but evidence was always harder to conceal during the winter… unless an assassination was done in the wilds or under roof.

Z smiled when she saw the Shatter Shield enter her hall. With a silent chuckle Z allowed herself to become lost to simple motions. Next she knew she was upstairs, through a loose panel that served as a door.

In the shadows by the shelves she waited. She was completely at ease, the voice in her head singing louder and louder as she heard the footsteps approach. Her target sat before the fire, sinking into the chair with a loud sigh.

She tried to yell as Z’s hand closed around her mouth and nose, her other hand at her chin.

“Do not fear the void, embrace it” she whispered her reassurance, then pushed her hands together. The snapped neck was nothing but painless death, the fire cast to her hair mutilating her body for parents to find. It was catching to her clothing as Z departed.

“It is done”


	4. Chapter 4 – One Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set years after chapter 3
> 
> Z realizes that she has fallen into several traps, some of her own creation. Some not.

Four more years passed, Malketh became respectable as an informant, as well as local assassin. He and Muiri heard all, gave sight to the Assassins with no listener to see for them.

Z had only gotten better, faster and cleaner not only at assassinations but also with her relationship with Veezara. The two were always paired together for their professional attitude and work place relationship. They would spend the nights improving on their relationship, only to forget it during the day. Both wanted more, but the dream was impossible. 

Veezara was an Argonian, a Shadow Scale. He was the last of his order; he needed to train children to be Shadow Scales. He had a duty. He was also put down by most.

Z was the prize assassin, a Nordic woman of considerable yet casual beauty. She could be stunning, capturing all the attention required. She could also be boring, fading into the scene like a shadow on a moonless night.

She was not a person. She never had a moral choice, never a social life save for her night. Her secret life was among a life filled with secrets. Unable to escape the crashing responsibility of her job, the harsh judgement of Astrid. She always had something to prove.

…………………………………………………………………….

Z stormed down the hall. Once more her mission was to assassinate a politician. She had no problem with this. Her problem was being sent to The Imperial City.

She hated her skills this time. The Dark Brotherhood in chaos and she was being sent out of her homeland to kill. This was not her job; it was another’s. They had failed. She would not.

“Damn you Valore” she hissed. 

Stomping loudly, which for her was not loud at all, she kicked her door open with a growl. As she closed it she let herself flop onto the bed, her arms sprawled out with a loud groan.

The furs beneath her softened, embracing her body as she sunk into the heavenly sensation of a soft sabre cat fur. She inhaled deeply of the scent in the room. It was her own, yet sweeter than sweat. Another scent was mixed in as well, one that made her smile and blush.

“Dead” a voice whispered as a small nut hit the side of Z’s face. She yelped, battering the smelling fruit away with undisguised shock. Veezara’s laughter reached her ears as she turned her eyes to him savagely.

“You bastard” She voiced her complaint as she threw the fruit back. The Argonian side stepped with such ease Z exhaled her irritation. Again the lizard chuckled.

“How are you so unfocused?” Veezara asked. Z lifted her head to stare at him. She rested her chin on her chest, her eyes forced to stare down her body and between her breasts to see him. He was her focus. She moved her feet aside to clear her line of sight.

Across the room he stood in the shadows, faint light catching on his bare chest scales. Z smiled, this was her room. Veezara was the mouse in the Lioness’s den. Her den.

“You got lucky” Z denied him the pleasure of a victory for a moment longer. The smile plastered on his face was unmistakable. 

“You’re bothered. I seem to get lucky often. What’s going on?” His tone became serious. He was a strange Argonian. Most referred to themselves as one, finding the more elaborate words hard on the jaw. Veezara spoke almost like a Nord. 

“Both reasons are childish. Foolish” Z brushed him off. She felt like a love sick teenager over the handsome Jarls son. Pathetic for depending so much on another. Veezara sensed her nerves as approached with a soft expression. She sat up to see him better.

“It’s me. You know you can tell me anything, as I can you” His hand touched her shoulder gently. Her heart quickened at his touch, the unspoken promise of pleasure, and of pain. Her breathing quickened. She was aware of Veezara pulling the leathers straps as he began to undo her shirt. His tail was pulled against his leg, trying not to wave in the intense excitement he felt. His tail always twitched when he felt an extreme emotion.

“I feel almost normal with you. I wonder about life” Z admitted. Veezara sat on the bed beside her. His hands slid behind her back, massaging her shoulders gently as she sighed.

“Living. Not just ending. I dream sometimes” Z finished.

“You believed a dream is foolish? Then I am a fool. I dream too” his claws brushed her hair aside from her neck as he worked on the clasp holding a leather collar to her neck. The leather was supple behind her hair, hardening into armour at the front.

“I feel safe around you” she whispered. She saw the shock flood through Veezara’s face, the almost despair. She knew the meaning of her words. He was a weakness to her now, no longer a strength. 

/“No. I will not lose Veezara”/

“We were both born for this. Breed to kill, raised and trained to hunt. I am one of the few who can understand how incomplete you feel. We kill, we are happy… But never content” His voice broke her away from her thoughts as she pressed her lips to the side of his jaw. 

She felt the extent of his rough lips, the sharp teeth beneath her own soft lips. She still pressed her lips there, finding nothing wrong with the sense. Her lips tugged on his gently, almost drawing blood as she tightened her bite. She knew Veezara could take her roughness, as she could his. There was something almost tender about this way though. Tonight was different.

“Do you love me?” She asked softly. It was the question no assassin should voice, but she asked in the shaking whisper. She was so weak around Veezara, and yet strong too. He smiled as he tore her shirt away, pulling the entire leather suit free in a series of quick movements. She lay in her undergarments on the bed as he stalked over her in his sack pants.

“Always” he replied. Assassin’s never admitted love, Veezara and Z were born assassins. The weight of their words was not lost on either of them.

“I love you, Z” he whispered, nipping her neck gently. Z was a quiet woman, even in her passion she rarely screamed.

She couldn’t contain her emotions. They began to claim her body as their own, caging her mind in the corner. She fought against all the positive emotions. She couldn’t give in. She needed Veezara that instant, she needed distraction. Actions to show her emotions, not words that could be so empty.

“I love you too Veezara… Now make me scream”

He was all too happy to oblige.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

One year had passed. The snows turned to less solid snows to slush back to the frozen earth of Skyrim. It had been too long since she returned home. Her prey had fled to Morrowind. She had wondered blight filled wastelands to the red sands of the Redguard homelands. Now her prey had fled to Skyrim once more.

Things had become interesting as her contract was cancelled; now she was working for her prey. She herself was now being trusted more so than the Listener herself to kill the Emperor of Tamriel. It was an interesting opportunity.

Her travels had taught her a great many things. She had taken odd contracts on the hunt. The voice in her head had abandoned her shortly after she received news that Valana Valore, a faceless woodelf to the crowds yet a beauty to the family, had become the Listener.

Z couldn’t help feel jealous. The failure had become the most important member of the family. She abused her power, was becoming rich from payments meant to help the struggling family. 

Veezara should have become Listener. He was dedicated, skillful and raised to the job since birth.

Astrid should have become Listener. She was deadly, witty and had run the family for the years. The only remaining family members all worked directly under her.

Valore should never have been born.

 

She cancelled her thoughts, holding the parchment identifying her as The Gourmet. In a simple white tunic, tied over her leather armor, minus the largest pieces, she walked through Solitude’s streets.

She was allowed into the restricted area. She then directed the cooks how to create a masterful dish, all in a state of deadness she had adopted for assassinations. No face haunted her at night, save a man that was very much alive.

The Emperor took a bite and died, her poison had done the trick. Something was not right as all the guest turned out to be guards. A set up!

She sprinted to where the door was unlocked, slashing with a table knife as she went. She stopped on a bridge outside, arching to another tower. Bellow people bustled in the streets, shopping and laughing. They were oblivious to the assassin and guards about to fight above.

Z heard no words, remembering a man she had robbed a son from.

“I think I’m going to burn the place down and kill you all!” The man yelled. He had threatened Z’s family.

“Big mistake” she growled. 

She leapt forwards, her hands latching around the neck of one guard as she threw her feet into the chest of a second. The resounding ring of the guards weapon clashing into another’s shield gave Z a moment to snap a few necks, kicking a fourth man over the edge.

She was fluid as water, the fight bored her. She was a ghost, not even she could explain it. One moment she was there, the next gone and attacking an entirely new guard. None she focused on drew breath for much longer, despite Z was unarmed.

She took a deep breath as she flipped from another’s shoulders, landing with the grace of a swan on the rail protecting the bridge. She placed her hands between her feet and bent her knees out, waiting patiently. More guards arrive. She looked down; it was over four houses up. A direct drop would kill her.

She smiled as she took a running leap. Her hands grasped around the roof and she pulled herself up. She ran three steps and leapt again, arrows flying at her as she seemed to fly. She gripped a rope decoration for the festival and swung through a window. With a few quick movements she discarded her outfit and walked calmly out the Winking Skeever a few minutes later.

It took a record amount of time to reach a hill. In the distance she saw Falkreath. Sitting upon her stallion, Shadowmere, she pushed her heels into his side. They set off at a gallop.

They had a long ride ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized Itallix didn't seem to be working so for thoughts which i usually do Italix I added the / this time around.


	5. Chapter 5 - Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fall Of the Sanctuary sets Z upon a new path, one which would forever linger in every waking thought... and her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is still my old style but I had fun with this chapter. This isn't a full on gore but there could be some touches on triggering themes.

Z stopped, Shadowmere snorting beneath her as he danced. Z stroked his neck softly, her own eyes on the rising smoke. The scent on the wind was undeniable.

“No!” Z hissed, kicking Shadow straight into a gallop. 

The repetitive sound of his hoof beats matched Z’s beating heart as she rode Shadow hard, ignoring the sweat lathering on his immortal neck. Shadowmere was immortal; thus far over 400 years old after all, he could handle a rough rider. The thunder roared again.

She rode to the gates of Falkreath where two guards blocked her way.

“Fus!” she yelled, the force pushing them aside as she thundered through. The guards yelled, but did not pursue the thundering rider as she plummeted through the people before her. They yelled, Shadow jumped left, Z holding in the saddle for dear life. She drove her heels into Shadow again, her toes clicking a woman’s basket. Shadow’s nose flared at the sudden eruption of Nightshade before him. Z’s cold heart did not allow her forgiveness as she punished Shadow’s sides.

/“Hold on Veezara!”/ She had not seen him in so long. Panic was slowly making its way into her system. It already owned her subconscious.

She pulled him up short of a raging squad of guards, their swords drawn. She yanked Shadow’s head left, drove her heels into his sides, sending him galloping up another street. Shadow leapt over the low brick wall with a loud snort, Z’s hands travelled up his neck swiftly as she leaned forwards, continuing to drive Shadow on as rain began to fall.

The sweat poured off Shadow’s neck, straight into Z’s tightly clenched hands. She stared momentarily at her white knuckles before clicking her tongue. Shadow picked up his pace, sensing home was near. The air was thick with black smoke, the smell of oil and burning flesh filled Z’s nose. 

/“Sithis, Night mother, Divines; anyone please let my family be alive. Please leave me with them. Where are you? Why can I not hear the voice? HELP ME!”/ She silently preyed. Desperation in her heart as it pounded. 

“Come on Shadow, we’re nearly there. Don’t give up now boy!” Z screamed, breaking all character. This was her world, the only thing she had known to be true. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t lose them. She couldn’t lose him.

“Veezara”

She pulled Shadow up abruptly. The sound of his teeth against the metal bit in his mouth was clear as he reared. Z pushed her heels down and hands forwards, leaning up his neck with absolute calm. His mane flew in the wind, as did his lush tail. Z’s hair also flew, her face petrified as lightning ripped the sky asunder for a split second. The casks of oil were right at the door. Flames rippled down lines, several dead soldiers lay on the ground, electrocuted and burned to death by a good fire ball.

Z dismounted as she saw slight movement, sprinting careless of the danger through a flame line.  
“Festus?” Z asked, staring where the movement had been, she couldn’t see him but none of the assassins were that good with a spell, not even Gabriella. She noticed a second twitch; it had to be Festus Krex.

“Uncle Fes!” She screamed, staring straight into a tree. She saw what she had feared. Festus, arrows chaining his entire upper half to the tree, none instantly fatal. 

Z snarled as she put the image together. Festus had been tortured to give up the password to the door, judging by none of the arrows been fatal she guessed he had broken.

She stared down as he spluttered. His arms were all impaled, rose in defence and surrender. The arrows were placed to cause extreme agony, blunt so their entrance would tear extra skin, and hurt more. Z sniffed back tears as Festus coughed.

“I… I didn’t…ah…” he never finished as his eyes became clouded, something Z often found enjoyable. This was her family though. The lightning cracked again, followed by thunder. Z snarled, her hair plastered down her face.

Z ran to the door, noting with horror it was broken open, the oil again. They hadn’t broken Festus, they had made him watch the door been destroyed. The sounds of battle reached her ears. She drew her dagger, staring at the red glowing as she entered.

Penitus Oculatus soldiers lay dead just inside, killed with such skill Z instantly knew who their killer was. She darted to the burning body stripped of its pride, its armor, slashed away to reveal the beautiful scales. Z let a tear fall as she placed a kiss gently on the body’s nose. This was her partner, her friend. The only one she truly opened up to. Reduced to nothing, nothing but a dead shell. She plucked some of his scales from his chest, her favourite ones and slipped them down her armour.

She could not feel. Could not think. A year. One year had passed since she had smelt his scent, felt his loving touch or the graze of his passion driven talons down her back and across her rump. Too long since she had felt his rough lips and sharp teeth. Now he was gone. Her only hope of normality, dead before her. 

/“Why wasn’t I here?”/

“Veezara” she whispered quietly, her tear falling onto the body of her lover. The storm brewed in her eyes. She rose, the single soldier almost laughing as Z glared.

Z simply charged, she flicked her dagger in her hand, side stepping as the soldier took a clumsy swing. Z slashed down the soldier’s side before taking her blade across the soldiers back, forcing him to his knees. Z placed the blade at the soldier’s throat, somehow this wasn’t good enough. Instead she lifted a cask of the oil. With a monstrous smile she broke it over the soldier’s wounds, tearing a desperate scream from the doomed man. She then threw the soldier’s soaked leg into Veezera’s still flaming tail. The soldier screamed as he light on fire, unable to drown the spreading flame. Z continued walking, the lightning outside flaring in her eyes.

Even in death, Veezara had helped her kill his murderers. That thought brought little comfort to Z’s rage. She needed to kill. She wanted revenge. For the first time in her life she hated those she hunted. The rush was almost as pleasant as her sex with Veezara, the orgasmic high. In vengeance on those who murdered him she repaid the year spent apart. And with each kill the feeling only grew stronger.  
She leapt down the stairs, two at a time to avoid connecting with the narrow passage way roof. She stopped, flames surrounding the walls. She felt her heart quicken as she saw her father, or the man she called father, fighting off seven soldiers.

His wolf was majestic, swinging a large paw. Three soldiers were thrown into the flames. His paw came down roughly, tearing another soldier apart. The next he bit, shaking his head before throwing the soldier behind him into the flames. The final soldier jumped, Arnbjorn caught him mid-air with a single paw and squeezed. The soldier kicked desperately before Arnbjorn twisted his fingers, the soldier stopped struggling. Suddenly he howled, his yellow eyes erupting in pain, the archers laughed, again loading their arrows.

“NO!” Z screamed; desperately running to Arnbjorn’s aid as his wolf form shivered, black mist beginning to fall from his face. Z ran harder, she could still save him.

/“Sithis, please let me save him”/ Z thought, launching herself over her father with her strange agility. She had her dagger in hand as she landed on one of the archers, tearing her blade up his throat. 

The second warrior was female. Z kicked her head as she stood up, knocked over by her escaping third soldier, another male.

Z grabbed the man and drove her fist square into his back, the hilt of her blade injuring the man. He fell to his knees with a silent gasp. Z wrapped her hand under his chin, other palm against his forehead.

“No no no…” The man’s neck was snapped as Z sharply forced her palm towards her other hand, bending the man’s neck beyond repair. His voice was lost in his begging. 

/“A fitting end for such scum”/ Z’s thoughts flared. No one else stirred that minute.

Z sighed, catching her breath she only just realised she had been holding. The rushing sound broke her moment of relaxing, she turned her eyes to Arnbjorn; he had an arrow through his throat. His human eyes shining clearly. 

“Father!” Z screamed, her heart was been wrenched from its dormant state from her chest, she couldn’t describe the feeling any other way. Her heart pounded.

Z stared to the soldier she had kicked; the soldier was dying, but had managed to fire one more fatal arrow. Z screamed. She didn’t have time to stare at her father as more screams drew her attention.

Z ran, stumbling in the blood as she sprinted through the bedroom halls, turning to the gathering area over Liz’s pen. She froze, staring at the mess that was Gabriela and Liz, the spider huddled over her dark elf mistress. Z shook, the soldiers littered the floor. Gabriella and Liz had not gone down without a fight. Z took comfort in this as she placed her thumb and pointer finger gently against Gabriela’s eyelids and closed them softly. Then Z stared at Liz, the faithful spider. Z sighed and drew the flaps over Liz’s eyes, equally respectful as she held back the emption building in her stomach. 

/“I can’t afford to break now. The others may be alive”/

More screams broke in Z’s ears; she sprinted towards the man’s cried.

“Nazir!” Z cried, leaping the ramp as she slashed soldiers aside, Nazir looked annoyed as he rolled a soldier off him, groaning as Z stood over him.

“What are you doing here girl?” Nazir scolded as Z pulled him to his feet.

“Get out Nazir, that’s an order!” Z yelled, staring into the flames. She threw Nazir the way she came as there was a huge collapse, flames splitting them apart.

Z coughed, choking on smoke as he pulled her mask and hood on. This gave her a few more minutes. 

“Mother?” Z screamed loudly, searching desperately for the leader, Astrid. Z’s vision began to blur in the smoke, her legs shook beneath her. Somehow Z stumbled through the halls to the Nightmother’s room, there she fell to her knees infront of the coffin and bowed her head. 

“Why?” she whispered, her voice breaking. 

“Sleep with me my child, it is your only salvation” the croaking whisper came again. Z looked up at the slightly ajar coffin; had it open when she entered? 

Desperately she stood up and stumbled inside, the fire licking the walls, the glass window melting with loud crackling and roaring. She took a moment to view what was left of her home then closed the coffin behind her, sniffing the decaying flesh of the Nightmother just a few centre metres away from her face.

“Thank you” Z whispered to whatever voice had spoken. The voices had returned. It was something of her life she had left to cling too in the death of so many. Her father. Her family. Her lover.

Z was baking alive, eyes tearing from the smoke they had endured. Her body lathered in sweat from the hot, skin tight leather and fire. Now the coffin was also shockingly hot, she couldn’t survive this. Suddenly she wondered if she would live, then decided either way she was not done with Skyrim.

“Sleep” the voice came again, somehow Z was forced to obey.

“Sleep”

………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“She’s in there Nazir, I’m sure of it. Hurry!” Babette cried, the voice reaching Z’s ears as she opened her eyes weakly, wiping the soot down her face away from her lashes as she blinked.

“I don’t see you helping” Nazir’s retort matched Z’s blinking.

“I’m not built for labour, I’m just a child” Babette countered, Z grinned. The little vampire was not a force to be messed with.

“Astrid yet lives. Find her” the voice came again. Z wondered who it was, it couldn’t be the nightmother; Z was not the listener.

Z fell backwards abruptly, right as the coffin opened. She lay sprawled on her back coughing as Nazir and Babette looked down at her in awe, Z stared at them.

“You look like crap” Nazir stated, earning a glare from Babette.

“At least my skin isn’t the same colour as crap” Z retorted weakly, blinking weakly again as Nazir pulled her to her feet.

“I’m glad you’re alive” He stated, Babette simply hugged Z tightly. Z was tempted to return the gesture but instead she held her face firmly ahead, staring down Nazir.

“I’m sorry about Veezara” Babette whispered, Z nodded. Babette was one of the few Z had confided in about her relationship with Veezara. She couldn’t dwell on this now.

“Astrid’s alive” she didn’t even wait for their reply as she limped towards her parents’ bedroom. It felt right somehow, Astrid often hid secrets right under everyone’s nose.

In their room Z froze, ignoring Veezara’s body in the next room. She refused to cry. She felt the single tear streaming down her face though, washing the soot down her cheek. More tears fell, black sooty tears falling to the ground. The salty warm feeling down her cheeks was unpleasant.

Z kicked a broken wardrobe aside, finding where the air current at her ankles was flowing. Inside she stopped, tears welling up in her eyes again.

“Mother?” She asked weakly, staring down at a dead body. The body was sprawled in agony, one hand weakly in position to stab herself. The hair was gone, burned away, leaving a red and black mess of human shaped charred muscle and bone. A groan rewarded Z after a few moments, dropped to her knees, ignoring the ingredients surrounding the woman.

Astrid’s flesh was smelling like food, reaching Z’s nose and earning a mouth-watering. Z hated herself for this. Her tears were flowing freely as she placed her hand beside her mothers, dark sooty tears dripping onto the nightshade beside her hand. Her mother was dead; there was no way around it. Every breath was on borrowed time. Why did she fight?

“We’ll get you help mother, just please, hold on” Z choked, Nazir and Babette were standing at the door, their own eyes wet but no tears falling. It seemed they had already known.

“It’s… different. I’ve never seen you cry. Don’t let it be my last memory” Astrid choked; Z sobbed harder, wiping her tears away and smiling bravely. Instantly the cold returned. For her mother’s sake, she would be the assassin not the daughter.

“Who’s the target?” Z whispered softly, she had noted the sacrament. Nazir and Babette hung their heads, Z assumed she knew.

“The murder, the Listener of the dark brotherhood, who turned out location over for gold” Astrid started, Z’s face darkened.

“I will torture her until Sithis himself cries for her pain” she whispered, Astrid smiled.

“The second… is... me” Astrid coughed weakly, burned blood down her face. 

“No…” Z whispered, tears running once more. She averted her gaze to avoid her tears; her eyes lay on the dagger Astrid’s hand rested over. The Blade of Woe. Its ebony carved to perfection, deathly perfection. Z’s hand trembled around the red leather bound hilt; it fit perfectly in her hand. Instead she drew her own unnamed dagger and laid it at her mother’s heart.

“Astrid” She whispered, binding the name to the dagger as her mother gasped. Z swore she would have been crying, had she been in any state. 

Z leaned down, pressing her lips to her mother’s burnt forehead, deeply sickened how she enjoyed the taste. She closed her eyes weakly as she whispered into her mother’s ear.

“I love you” then plunged her dagger into her mother’s heart, adding a quick twist and pull of her wrist. The death was instant, as if Astrid had been waiting for Z to kill her.

“Oh Astrid” Babette wiped a stray tear from her eye as Z rose, shaking as she sheathed her dagger, Astrid and The Blade of Woe. She turned her eyes to Nazir, they blazed with unfathomable rage.

“Nazir, go to Dawnstar. We are moving out. The contract is still on” Z spoke so coolly that he flinched, Babette stared, also horrified. Only someone with nothing left could speak so emotionlessly. Z stumbled up the stairs, her eyes on Veezara’s remains one final time before she kicked the door open and stormed out, into the pounding rain and thunder.

The lightning cracked as Z shook. She was alone; she could release her emotions now. She stood, shaking weakly, her feet even rolling as she stared into the sky. Z lowered her eyes, clamping them shut as more tears fell. She mustn’t cry.

Z ran her hands up, hooking them through her hair as she breathed heavily. Her eyes clamped closed, tighter and tighter as she felt her nose crinkle up, her lips curl. Still she shook, turning in a circle, each foot step slopping in the mud, the loud noise lost to the thunder and pounding rain.

“FAAAAHHHHHHHHHH” Z screamed, kicking the ground roughly, her body still tense. She walked to a tree, leaning against it as she let tears fall, taking a deep breath. Her eyes flashed as she drove her fist into the tree with a shriek. Z attacked the tree, driving her fist into its trunk so hard her knuckles bled, she hit harder until her hands were torn apart. Then she drove her elbows, knees, and feet into the poor tree, which was thicker than her. Finally she shrieked at the tree, her care gone in secrets and meaning. She only wanted destruction.

“Fus Roh Dah!” Her cries echoed. The tree was thrown clear from its already weakened position.

“Yol!” She shouted at another dead soldier, incinerating the corpse. She roamed to the next one, and then began kicking it, picking up handfuls of mud and dropping it all over the soldier. She didn’t even notice Nazir and Babette staring on in horror; no one of them was ever so disrespectful to any dead body.

“You fucking bastard! DAMN YOU!” Z dropped to her knees sobbing uncontrollably.

“Damn you” she whispered, unable to scream. She sobbed loudly, her muddy hands over her eyes as she arched over; the knot was still in her stomach, the rage never subsiding. She suddenly arched back, clawing her hands in the mud and screamed. 

Her scream tore louder than the thunder, her anger blazed brighter than the lightning. By the time she dropped she had melted down, Nazir and Babette simply stood behind her, ready to comfort, or subdue her if need be.

Z simply muttered one word, right into the ground as she hung her head, hair dangling from her as she darkened. Nothing would stop her in her quest. Valana would die; Z would destroy everything Valana cared about, after destroying and trapping her soul. The next thing on her list from there was destroy Valana’s daughter’s life. Piece by Piece. Z had sworn to one word, one despicable word only.

 

Revenge.


	6. Chapter 6 – Hunt and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z informs her family of their new home, before going hunting once again.

Three days. Three days had passed and Z still felt no peace. She glared at the burns in the ground, her eyes fluttered to Shadowmere who was drinking from the water happily, almost oblivious to the murder and death around him.

Z hated this. Death and murder were in no way strange to her but this was family. Her family. She had not been there to protect her family, instead cleaning the mess of their murderer. Her mind snapped back to attention.

“The contract is still on” she whispered. Babette’s eyes snapped to her, Nazir spoke his mind.

“How? The Listener betrayed us! Astrid is dead! Our home is destroyed!” He bellowed.

“I will repeat this once Nazir. The contract is still on” Z turned her dark eyes to him with such focus he shuddered, still he screamed back.

“You’re crazy! We are nothing. Nothing!”

Z sprung to action, sweeping his legs from beneath him as her hand grasped the collar of his hood and shirt beneath with expert dexterity. She knew his clothing style; she had been trained to know.

“Listen you insufferable prick! We ARE the Dark Brotherhood. We have a home, we have each other and we have the Night Mother. If we return to her, she will even allow us to destroy her Listener. Just like 400 years ago, we will fall only to rise once more” Z glared him down into a child, despite Nazir was taller. She would not be held down by fear. She chose to rise above it all. Her mother had wanted the assassin, not the daughter, not the human. Z for the first time in her life agreed completely. Compassion was not needed in these times, darkness was.

“Where?” Babette asked. Z glared down at Nazir before throwing him away like a rag doll.

“Dawnstar. Pack your bags. We leave at dusk”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

They rode in silence, Z leading the way lazily on Shadowmere. Both their gaits were taxed with the loss. Shadow had sensed his riders change, and mourned silently with her. Behind her Nazir drove a cart with a sturdy grey pulling it. Babette sat beside him with her head in hands, the sunlight rays painful on her flesh.

The rain continued to fall. Z’s hair was plastered down her face and shoulders as she rode without her hood. The mud splashed beneath Shadow’s hooves, each slow step a brilliant wave of brown muddy water. Shadow’s hooves and lower legs were stained with mud, his usual black/brown coat seeming midnight after the effects of the rain. His eyes were dim, his head lowered on a loose reign. 

“Speak to Amaund Motierre. At the Bannered Mare in Whiterun” The voice touched her again. Z woke, her eyes flashing as she turned her head to her companions. She should protect her family, yet vengeance and success were both her goal. 

“I must head for Whiterun. Babette knows the way, and password” Z kicked Shadow into a gallop before they could object.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

 

She dismounted Shadow when she reached Whiterun. She slapped his rump, sending him into an empty stall. She gave the stable owner money for the day and walked towards the town. As she was walking she felt her neck bristle. She turned her eyes, catching the glimpse of Imperial soldiers following her.

She bit her lip, gracefully walking to the gates and entering the hold.

Large house greeted her. The city itself was split into three sections.

The Planes District. 

It was named so because it was the closest point to the planes surrounding the hold. It was the shopping district of Whiterun. There was a home for sale there, Breezehome. The entrance gate was in this district.

The Wind District. 

The residential section of Whiterun, home to the Companions mead hall, Jorrvaskr. The Gildergreen tree also was in this district. It was named The Wind District because of the strong mountain winds that gusted through the area.

The Cloud District.

The Cloud District was the smallest of Whiterun’s three districts. It was so named because it is located atop the bluff Whiterun was built on and is therefore closer to the clouds than any other. It is dominated by the imposing form of Dragonsreach.

…………………………….

 

Z’s eyes fell on the Bannered Mare as she lost herself in thought.

/“No. That would be the first place they look”/ She made her way into The Drunken Huntsman. She hoped for a bed there, as a hunter herself she found this place relaxing. The dark elf murderer trying to sell her skills was good company, if a little repetitive. She viewed killing as an art, not how Z viewed her art, but as literal art.

It was a few hours later Z made her way to The Bannered Mare, ducking her head as the smell of mead hit her nose. The stench of sweaty soldiers, roasting meat and the sound of sweet music also assaulted her senses. Her feet touched on the creaking floor soundlessly. Under another’s foot the sound would have been monstrously loud, followed by an unforgiving slam of the door and rowdy laughter. Z opted for silence, moving around the outskirts of the loud crowd.

Her focus was broken for an instant as she felt a strong wall of flesh and steel before her. She grunted softly as she tried to shuffle past the sturdy man. 

“Watch it” he gruffed in a dull voice. It was gruff, kind hearted in many ways. Animalistic in his chest. 

Z didn’t even look up; she simply strode into the room and eyed the man she had been sent to kill, and to serve. She allowed the door to close with a soft bang, enough to bring voice to the irritated nobleman before her who was sitting smugly in his chair.

“What is it? I said I didn’t wish to… be disturbed” Amaund started out snapping but fell into a frightened whisper.

/“Just like the weasel he is”/ Z thought bitterly. She wanted to slaughter this man like the cowardly pig he was. To end the mission that had cost her everything, but no, she held her own emotions secondary to her family.

“You and the Dark Brotherhood have unfinished business. Sithis is owed a soul” Z spoke coolly, hissing unfinished with such venom that she drew a wince from Amaund. He was many things. A slimy bastard, a political kiss ass, a target, a dead man walking on borrowed time. But he was not stupid.

“By the gods. You… you’re alive… but… I had heard your Sanctuary…” The man fell to grovelling.

“Please! You mustn’t think I had anything to do with that. I want the Emperor dead, the true Emperor! I still do! It was Maro! He…”

Z felt a rage in her stomach as she remembered the fight in Solitude. Maro. He had destroyed her family, allowed the Listener to escape and desecrated her home. Swallowing the blinding, burning rage she spoke.

“The Emperor. The True Emperor. Where is he?” her tone was natural but her emotions were far from. Somehow she had disconnected them, allowing herself to once more fade into the assassin.

“You mean, after all that’s transpired, The Dark Brotherhood will still… honour the contract?” he asked joyfully.

Z nodded in silence, her fingers dancing over the blade of Astrid. Naming the weapon had been something that Z had never intended to do, but the dagger had been named and now she would wield it as such. 

“Why, this is astounding news. Wonderful news! The Emperor is still in Skyrim, but not for long. He’s aboard his ship, The Katariah, moored offshore in the Solitude Inlet. But you must hurry! If you can get on-board that ship. Kill Titus Mede II, as contracted… I will reveal the location of the dead drop that holds your payment” The information was good, the promise better. Z wanted more. Needed more. She had sworn an oath, one that required blood be spilt.

“Maro. Where is he?” She requested a bit more urgently. Her tone was still level, but for her it was desperate, seething even. She had taken a stride forwards and fisted her hands as she spoke, Amaund laughed.

“Ah, yes. I can imagine you’d want to settle that score. Last I heard he was at Solitude’s docks, conducting the Emperor’s departure” He informed. Z growled.

“That man is running on borrowed time. He will not hide from me”

She paused, settling back into a neutral position.

“Strong security?”

“You must be joking. This is the true Emperor not some half Septim look alike. He’ll be surrounded by elite body guards, I’m sure. You have your work cut out for you” The man sounded offended.

Z however chuckled inside.

/“Everyone assumes the Dark Brotherhood is destroyed. They will have their guard down… and a belly full of mead”/ She thought, holding her pose against the door. She turned to walk into the main hall, pausing as her fingers touched the door. The wood was smooth beneath her bare fingertips.

“We shall see”

………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Z sat at a small table in the shadows poking her fork in the mashed potato she had been given. She had barely eaten a mouthful. Swallowing the goo on occasion to appear polite. She was deep in thought, planning her attack. She was not one for planning, but the weather outside did not permit her leave of the Nordic styled Whiterun, or the soldiers camping in the wilds. She was a criminal in Solitude, likely known throughout the land by now as an infamous assassin. She had screwed up.

Her eyes were focused on the largest group within the halls, on one man in particular.

He was a strong, messy looking man. Nordic in every sense of the word, barbaric in appearance, covered in grime from his travels and the blood of battle and yet his unnatural pale eyes were kindly, rivalling the full moon in a starless sky for their beauty. His face appeared somewhat squared, with angled, hollowing cheeks. His facial hair concealed this well, scruffing down to his Adams apple. His hair was also shoulder length, flowing freely with knots all through its dark brown mass. His nose seemed small from her angle, cute on him however. Much like a wolf’s somehow, despite the lack of any real resemblance. He was quite good looking in his unkempt state.

She was so wrapped up in admiring the man she missed the door open and a group of Imperial Soldiers storming in. Their rough laughter and a woman screaming in protest at their drunken handling.

“Get off me!” She spoke loudly. The soldiers laughed.

“Come on baby. We’ve been gone a long time. We need a good fucking” they all laughed at one soldier’s statement.

Z felt herself get up silently. She took the strides to the soldier. With a calm expression and tone she began.

“Excuse me?” she started. She swung her fist straight into the soldiers gut, dropping him to his knees with a foot to the groin.

“I believe the woman said she wasn’t interested” Z stated calmly, her eyes flashed to the barmaid. The barmaid, Sadia, nodded then fled. She was acting unaffected but Z saw the nervous shaking of her hands. How close the soldiers had come to taking her, and how no one had cared. Security in Whiterun was terrible, shameful even.

She was returning to her table when she bumped into the wall again. The man who she had bumped into before grunted.

“Watch it” 

She looked up, staring straight into the eyes of the man she had been watching. Up close he seemed even more barbaric, yet it was clear how soft he was behind it all. Z wondered if that was just her training seeing the kindness in a hardened warrior, but she put it down to the man’s lack of wit.

“Don’t walk in a woman’s way. Didn’t you see me?” Z snapped. Something made her crazy in this man’s presence. She instantly didn’t particularly like him, yet was attracted to his looks. She felt a pang of guilt thinking about another after Veezara’s death, only a few days after. She hadn’t gotten any for the year she had been away and now he was gone, leaving her wanting. She swallowed the anger as the man spoke.

“You’re small” he said in way of explanation. He had shrugged, his armour clanking as his shoulder plates came down.

“I’m not an Orc! Or a Wood Elf!” Z spat. She liked snapping at this man. He was a good whipping boy. With a great ass.

“You should join the Companions” he gruffed. His smile was somewhat dim, yet infectious as he showed clean teeth. Z glared.

“I will kill you” 

…………………………………………………………………………………

 

It was a day later Z reached Solitude’s docks. Her eyes blazed as she paused upon the cliff, gazing down from the road by the farm over the docks. She saw the ship moored outside like Amaund had said. 

She dismounted Shadow, resting her palm against his sweaty neck momentarily before she continued to walk the path, unconcerned with the mass amounts of troopers. She saw Maro. She blocked out her thoughts and instincts of an instant kill. He was for another day.

 

……………………………………………………………………………….

Z had mastered silently exiting water. The dagger was between her teeth, a shiv, the Blade of Woe and Astrid tied in her armour. She allowed her hands to wrap around the slimy chain of the anchor, with a deep breath she pulled herself up slowly, her feet wrapping around the chain as soon as her feet left the water. 

She eventually managed to crawl through to the inside, dropping behind some crates as she listened to the crew talk. She leapt up quickly to the crates above, watching the crewman walk towards where she had just been. Her hands closed around the daggers stored aboard the ship. With a simple overhead throw she drove the dagger into the back of the man’s neck.

The sound of hammer and anvil greeted her ears.

Silently as she had entered she dropped to the ground, pulling the body into a large open crate. She continued sneaking along, hearing the footsteps of soldiers Z leapt into the shadows. She rounded a corner into the bedroom of the lower decks.

As quickly as she appeared she slashed the waking men across the throats, delighted in the sense of blood soaking through her armour to touch her pale skin. She turned towards the door, only just rising her dagger in time to block a downwards blow from a sole returning crewman.

Her dagger was knocked from her grasp, the flimsy iron blade unbalanced in her skilled hands. She quickly spun to her right, dodging another blow as she pulled The Blade of Woe free. She flipped it so the blade rested up her arm, in her hands however that meant very little, more concealment than actual need of the blades angle. In a split second she could reverse the blade once more.

Hammer to anvil.

She ducked his second slash and drover her dagger into his gut. She pulled it free and dropped him face first into his mace, the blood soaking her boots did little to change her mood as she sheathed The Blade of Woe and took the iron dagger once more.

She leapt up, dagger between her teeth as she crept along the roof, holding onto the rail that ran the length of the ship. The bones of the ship served as her ladder. When her eyes fixed on an armoured man she drove her newest dagger into the wood, its system designed to give her a drop. She dropped like a spider on web and grasped the warrior’s head in her hands. Before he could scream she tugged left then right, snapping his neck soundlessly yet efficiently.

Bang. Bang. The metallic ring of hammer against anvil.

She continued on foot up some stairs, the sound of voices drew a snarl from her lips. Their words were about her home.

“Well, it’s over now. Lieutenant said you could see the smoke from Whiterun”

“Yeah, glad…” The guard’s words were cut off by the dagger through his temple. The second guard tried to react but Z back handed him across the chest, driving the dagger in through the leather chestplate. Her hands flamed momentarily as she melted the hilt, then threw her foot into the former dagger hilt. The guard stumbled backwards and over the railing to the level below with a scream.

The hammering continued, beating at one with her dead heart. Hammer to anvil.

She continued along, killing guards as silently as she had entered the ship. The beat set, her blade hungry for blood. She snapped necks and bones, cut through flesh and even beat men down with a cold perfection. 

She came to the captains chambers. He rushed at her. With dagger in hand she simply back handed him across the face. As he wheeled she spun and slashed him across the neck.

She then crept back through the ship, following the sound of hammering. She opened the door, then closed it. There were screams. Then silence.

The Hammer hit the anvil no more.

…………………………………………………………………………………

 

She opened the door and stared straight into the eyes of the Emperor. He was sitting calmly at the table, a map of Skyrim before him. His hands rested calmly on a book, “The Amulet of Kings” about former Emperors.

“And once more I prove Commander Maro the fool” he started in a wise voice. He was calm, something that shook Z ever so slightly out of her assassin. Her mouth opened for a moment, her eyes slightly wide. 

“I told him you can’t stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could” he finished. Z nodded.

“You cannot” She whispered calmly, a hint of sorrow in her voice. This man had forgiven her for a crime she was yet to commit. It touched her, but she would not waver from her duty.

“Come now. You haven’t come all this way just to stand there gawking” The Emperor smiled as Z took calm collected steps towards him. She respected the man deeply from a few moments discussion. He was a worthy Emperor, weighed with heavy choices.

“Indeed” Z replied. She held herself calm

“You and I have a date with destiny. As it is with Emperors and Assassins. Yes I must die, and you must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is. I wonder… would you suffer an old man a few words, a death wish before the deed is done?” The old man questioned. Z saw him as a majestic man, but he was also old. He was accepting his death because it was close by natural causes.

Z nodded slowly, closing her eyes for but a moment to indicate her respect.

“Well I thank you for your courtesy” There was a pause.

“You will kill me, I have accepted that fate… but regardless of your path through life I sense in you a certain… ambition. So, I ask of you a favour. An old man’s dying wish. While there are many that would see me dead there is one who set the machine in motion. This person, whomever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?” The old Emperor seemed tired, Z couldn't help smile as she spoke.

“Anything for the Emperor”

“Thank you. Now… Onto the business at hand I suppose, hmm?” The Emperor rose from his chair and gazed out the window. Z saw his shoulders set defiantly even in the face of his certain death. Z smiled as she held the Blade of Woe to his neck. She leveled the blade as he swallowed.

“Do not fear the void, embrace it” Z spoke the words without thought as she slashed across his throat. She tore his skin apart, feeling the warmth of blood tricking down to her wrist as she held the blade in the wound, the Emperor’s gags did nothing to move her anymore. She reeked of death, wanted this man dead. Needed him dead.

She felt dead. Dead to the world around her. No longer caring about her effect on Skyrim or the world, rather upon her family and those whom had tormented her. Revenge was to become her world. She had her contacts, those who had not been revealed to Vale. The Assassins and Thieves that Z herself had trained. She had a guild, a faction, dare she feel it a family. She did not care.

She retreated completely into her world of Darkness and Murder.


	7. Chapter 7 – Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z teaches some lessons as well as learns some. Whether she can remember is another story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does include a poorly, poorly written torture scene as well as some cruel mind games. This could be triggering to some.
> 
> A side note, that 1 line bit is intentional for reasons I expose later on.
> 
> No, Z is not aware she is using shouts at first, no she isn't aware of her status as the Dovahkiin. I have split well and truly from how the game goes here and actually had her fully learn from the Grey Beards, instead of just running between two factions with no information.

Chapter 7 – Learning 

 

Commander Maro gasped as the hood was torn from his head and face. His eyes travelled up the legs of a woman, glad in all black. By her bare feet she was not an elf, or any beast folk. He judged her as Imperial or Nord. His eyes continued up the woman to her face, and midnight blue eyes.

“You!” he hissed, noticing how dry his mouth felt. His eyes widened as he stared at Z, her hair tied back giving her an older and more collected look. She gleefully held a single nail in her hand, tapping it calmly against her palm. Maro swallowed.

“Tell me Maro. Who am I?” Z sneered quietly, her eyes flicking to his bound wrists. She squatted before the chained man, eyes flashing dangerously. Her face was calm, an evil smile on her face.

“See, when I look at you I see the man who almost killed me. I can say you are the man who ordered an attack on my home. When I look at you Maro I see someone like me” Z chuckled after speaking these words.

“Ironically. To stop us, or attempt to anyway, you had to become like us” 

“You murdered my son you bitch!” He snarled back. Z stood calmly then nodded.

“And your men murdered my mother, and my father. My uncle, aunt, pet, sister and…” Z trailed off. She refused to say the words about Veezara she longed too. She longed to admit everything, but not to Maro. Never to Maro.

“Your lover. I see… This is all about revenge” he taunted her. Even though he was chained he still had an edge. Z hated that.

“When your son died, he was trying to bed me on the side of the road. Who’s the dirtiest here? Your son was a filthy pig in uniform. Just like his father” Z never gave Maro the chance to reply as she threw her foot into his face. He fell, fading into the land of dreams as Z finished.

“He died screaming”

………………………………………………………………………………………………

He screamed as Z pulled the last nail from his finger with the nail underneath. She was happily mutilating the now gagged, near naked Commander Maro with one fence nail. She had neatly piled his bloody nails up beside an old dagger. She was almost methodical as she tightened his bindings, forcing his arms further apart into a T shape. His sweaty head dropped, hair hacked short as Z burned it in the flames. She was not shaving him; rather she was tearing clumps out by hand. Maro screamed but was barely heard over the singing and his gag.

Maro closed his eyes, praying that it would end. 

When he opened them a little child was looking at him, breathing loudly. There was a flash. Next thing he saw was his tormentor pinning the child, pulling back on his arms as her knee rested against the back of his neck and head. Somehow she didn’t break a thing, but the child went limp. His attacker vanished for a moment, carrying the child back into the light of the streets of Solitude. The singing of the Festival continued.

When she returned there was no guilt in her at all. There was no regret, only anger. She channelled it into causing him pain.

She bent his finger back with such slowness that Maro almost saw the bones snap, he screamed as his finger poked up at a wrong angle. She was taking delight in his pain. He almost believed he deserved it with Z’s harsh whispers and desperately contained tears.

He never saw the Dark Brotherhood as anything more than a bunch of cutthroats with stupid rituals, the way Z spoke however made him consider it from their view. An outcast saved by the shadowy organization and trained to defend themselves. They choose what to return and how. Information, kills or simply supplies. The Dark Brotherhood’s set up was extraordinary. And he knew it all… he was already dead, he knew this much. His hour he did not but his fate he did. He was going to die.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Maro gasped as he awoke. The first thing he noticed was he was wet, soaking wet. The room was dark and cold. It stunk of salt. Z was standing at a door with an evil smirk on her face as she spoke.

“Now Maro, the ring you are wearing permits you to breathe underwater. As you can tell it is chained to the wall. It is a onetime enchantment, remove it and you’re dead. You can’t swim to the surface without it, we are miles from land or any aid beyond the ship I already have. I will let you choose how you die. You have earned that honor. Good luck, may you find peace in the void of Sithis” With that she opened the door, instantly a bone breaking wave of water poured in.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Z wondered up the frosty mountain aimlessly. She no longer cared. She had set Nazir up with her contacts, had everything in place. Now she had nothing to do but wreck vengeance upon those who had betrayed the family. Valana was hidden, never to be discovered again with her money stash. Z would have to wait out her illusive prey. So she simply wondered aimlessly across the country, taking the odd local contract. 

She had just left Ivarstead. It was a small town, up the road from Helgen. She was now traveling up the Seven Thousand Steps heading towards High Hrothgar. She was stumbling through the rock fields, no longer on the path since she had been forced to fight a frost troll. The bastard had gotten a claw on her and torn her arm open. The blood was seeping through her fingers, the frost only added to her pain as her hand froze to the wound only to melt slightly. She was stiff, bleeding out and alone. Chances on this mountain grew slimmer by the moment.

She fell to her knees before a large building, a black stone castle bleeding snow and ice from the rooftops. She tried to crawl, dragging snow beneath her stomach. She could not go further as the innocent white turned to red.

She had failed.

………………………………………………………………………….

 

She knew not how but her eyes snapped open. She felt sheepskin beneath her back, hands and legs. She knew she was in her underclothing; her leather armour had been damaged beyond repair in the fight. She shifted her shoulder, regretting the motion instantly as she felt a jolt of pain travel up her body. Her torso was almost as heavily bound as her torn arm. The stiff, unforgiving bandage let her know just how bad her damage was.

/“Close”/ she thought with almost disappointment. Death would have been an easy escape.

Her eyes flickered to above as she rose. This time she was expecting the pain and blocked it out with such ease it chilled her to the bone. She saw the clothing piled for her, a leather armor vest over a black skin-tight shirt and ebony gauntlets. The carvings within the armour caught her attention. They seemed to call to her, whispering. She picked up one of the gauntlets and squinted closer, smiling at the rush of words that flooded into her mind.

“Drem Yol Lok” a deep voice rumbled. When Z looked to the speaker three words escaped her mouth in a high, mouse like squeak.

“What. The. Fuck?”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Z sat, staring at the dragon carvings. The stone was black, flames flickering in old styled torches.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

The seasons changed and returned once more to the thickest snows when Z left the Greybeards care. It was dim in her mind, the time she had spent seemed to fade before she could even memorise it. She knew magic was at work and accepted that, it was her one friend that she could no longer remember with the deep voice that troubled her.

She was walking the path towards Solitude when she was jumped.

She ducked the first blow on instinct. She spun and drove her fist straight into the Imperial soldier’s stomach. As he doubled over she threw her knee into his face and downwards chopped him across the shoulders. He fell into the mud unstirring. 

She kicked behind her, catching a second soldier in the gut. Z then punched the woman in the throat. She was already spinning to block a third with crossed wrists as the female soldier fell.

The forth struck at her with a mace. She blocked by crossing her wrists just beneath the head of the mace. The wooden shaft was put between her wrists. With an easy spin she claimed the mace as her own and struck the attacker across the side of the head.

She was paused as she stared down the men holding arrows to her. Ten of them. Z stood calmly, dripping mace in her hand and a mutilated soldier at her feet. She judged the situation quickly, she couldn’t block them all. She didn’t have much hope.

With a reserved lowering of her eyes she let the mace fall from her hands. The sound of it hitting the stone was heavier than her heart as the chains were bound around her wrists. 

She was captured.

……………………………………………………………………………..

 

She looked down to the chains around her wrists, all rusted and chipping yet still unbreakable. The dungeon itself stunk like uncleaned men, burning and stinking rotted flesh, stale sweat, uncleaned old urine and burning leather.

The rats ran up to her feet and began nibbling at her bare toes. She kicked them away with a bored groan. The things were vile, covered in mud from the outside world. She envied and admired how such creatures could be so free, yet still be driven to eat away at rotting humans.

The light from a window above shone down on her dark mattered hair. The window was within her unbound reach, but she was bound by heavy chains. The guards knew of her skills all too well. In the dirty light her skin appeared almost green tinged. Perhaps she was. The thing she had learned over her life, especially in her imprisonment was that time was funny in a cell.

She sat on a bucket, her skin cold from the chilled drafts. Her mind was as blank as the metal bars she was held behind. She often found herself staring at them pondering her escape.

It wasn't as if she didn’t belong here. She had committed many crimes. She had killed many people with a small smile on her face, a song in her heart which was raped by the darkness she had been raised to become. Even in her cold persona she wanted to be human.

She never could be though, she was a perfect killer cursed with the power of Dragons.

She was not meant to save the world, a fate that brought a smile to her lips. People wanted her to kill the very dragons she felt a kinship with. She was expected to hug the children and save the puppies. She was meant to be honorable, kind hearted and a warrior of high esteem.

Z scoffed. She knew what people wanted in a hero. Instead they got her. An Assassin who had killed children and old women alike. Someone who preyed on the pain of others to make her living, sunken deeper into her own world of revenge and darkness… and she had never owned a puppy.

Thinking upon all this brought rage to her gut. Then strangely she found a new trail of thought. It was staring into the blackness of her cell that she came to a realisation.

She was by normal standards unfit to be considered the hero but she was the hero none the less. Her tale would be as epic as it was sad. Her escape would take time, but she would escape. It may take days. It may take months. It may take years. She would escape.

She let the shout leave her lips as she stared down at her iron bands once more. The flames burned her flesh and chains alike. She was beyond caring about her pain, the whimper was one of triumph not pain and weakness.

With a loud thud and clang the chains fell free. 

It had begun.


	8. Chapter 8 – Dragon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z faces the Headsman at Helgan before things take a turn for the worst.

The sound of cart wheels rolling greeted Z as she woke from her daze. She had run far, for nearly a month. She had kept the contacts alive, the Dark Brotherhood was growing stronger and she was still the pin up Assassin. It was at Dark Water Crossing that Z’s talents had become near useless. In open space she had been surrounded and pinned. They had not bothered chaining her wrists, she had simply been knocked over the head and from there she had blacked out.

“What’s your name horse thief?” A man’s voice rumbled. He sounded like a middle aged Nord.

“Lokir. And you?” a higher pitched Imperial voice came.

“Ralof” the first replied.

Z allowed her eyes to open calmly, there was no sudden jump or stirring she just simply opened her eyes. Her feet were bare, wrapped in cheap cloth. She raged at the thought of her armour stolen, but she remembered about her gauntlets. The greybeards had said they would only serve a dragon born. She often wondered if they meant her, her ability to shout and learn new shouts was greater than theirs. There was something they had always hidden from her, the Greybeards hid everything.

“Hey you? You’re finally awake” Ralof started. Z’s eyes travelled to him.

His head was reasonably square, his features strong as every typical Nord male. His eyes were bright, piercing blue, his lips long and large as was his nose. His chin was covered in blonde facial hair as his long locks flowed to his shoulders.

“You were trying to cross the border right? Got caught in that Imperial ambush same as us, and that thief over there” Ralof gestured with heavy shoulders towards Lokir. Z’s gaze followed.

Lokir was an Imperial alright. His chin was pointed, his face bony with dark brown eyes and windswept hair that stuck out like a Darkelf among Argonians.

“Damn you Stormcloaks! Before you came along the Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell” Lokir snapped, his voice trailed off in depression. Z’s attention was drawn to the word Stormcloak.

“You there. You and me, we shouldn’t be here. Its these Stormcloaks the Empire wants” he moped. Z tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“We are all brothers and sisters in binds now thief” Ralof pointed the point out.

“Shut up back there” the driver growled. Z smiled. It would be so easy to kill him, if she was willing to commit suicide. The other guards would not be so easy, and she was bound. She let the urge pass. A grunt beside her earned her attention.

“Whats wrong with him?” Lokir asked.

Z was shocked to see a strong, Nord male beside her in fine fur armour. 

His hair was a soft, light brown, as was his considerable yet finely groomed beard. His eyes were small and dark beneath a strong, expressive brow. His nose was large, obviously broken several times yet still reasonably straight. His cheeks hollowed drastically giving his bones a defined look into a low, sturdy jaw and reasonably large lips.

All his jaw was hidden behind a cloth bound so tightly that the outline of his lips could be seen. Z instantly assumed who this man was.

“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE high king!” Ralof warned. He poured his heart into the tone behind his words. Z smiled, holding Ulfric’s gaze with an equal expression.

“A pleasure to meet you” Z said simply. The first words that left her mouth for the trip were these. Ralof looked shocked, as if offended yet enticed.

“Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the Rebelion! But if they’ve captured you…” Lokir’s eyes widened in fear as his voice heightened.

“Oh gods! Where are they taking us?”

Z smirked. There were so many places the guards could take them, but none would truly end any better than where they were going. To an unknown chopping block to be beheaded without trial. 

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovengard awaits” Ralof answered simply. The silence that followed was uncomfortable for all but Z. She simply observed her surroundings, eyeing Ulfric with a smirk. She could easily free the man and have multiple shouts curling through the Imperials. But they could both die from a single mistake. There was no room for error, and no time for second chances.

She watched the children play as the gates opened. She couldn’t help smile inside at their innocence. It was something she had never had, never seen from her angle. Now as the doomed she saw it, almost longed for it. The children were ushered inside as the cart rolled through. She faintly heard Ralof curse a name, she registered it without hearing. The carts stopped. She was pulled out to the ground and forced to stand in a line.

“Ralof of Riverwood” came a Nord’s voice. He was dressed in Imperial armour. Z spat. A traitor and her executioner. Over the time with Stormcloaks she had found their views efficient, yet their methods unnecessarily harsh. Ralof stepped forwards with a glare at the red head.

“Why Hadvar?” he demanded. The Imperial stared at Ralof with a saddened expression.

“We need the Empire if we are to stand against the Thalmor” He answered. Ralof was dragged away, leaving Hadvar staring at a sheet of paper with a blank expression yet eyes filled with unshed tears for his childhood. Z was not the only one too long for better days.

“Lokir of Rorikstead” He called. Lokir was pushed forwards.

“No! I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” Lokir pushed past Hadvar and bolted up the road. A harsh womans voice interrupted.

“Hault!”

“You’re not going to get me!” Lokir taunted as he sprinted. Z averted her eyes to the ground with a small shake of her head. Lokir was absolutely, without a doubt, fucked.

“Archers!” The Captain called again in her harsh, rasping voice. A flock of arrows were released into Lokir’s back. He fell down dead, more than six arrows buried in his neck and even more down his back.

“Anyone else feel like running?” The Captain demanded. Z laughed loudly, then lifted her head.

“You intend to kill us without trial, what’s stopping us from fighting back?” She demanded coolly. The Captain didn’t even flinch as Hadvar continued the call.

………………………………………………………………………..

 

The mud was cold beneath Z’s feet, yet she found it comforting to feel the mud seep between her toes, at the same time it sickened her. It was the last feeling she would ever have. She stood accepting this fact as the priestess gave them their last rights. A man complained and stood forwards.

Z watched calmly as the man’s head was chopped off, the Captain’s foot on his shoulders holding him down for the axeman. His head rolled into the crate bellow the block. His body was kicked aside by the Captain.

“As fearless in death as he was in life” Ralof spoke after the cries of on viewers and soldiers finished. His voice was laden with respect and sorrow he would never let free in tears. The Imperial Captain looked annoyed at him as her eyes breezed the prisoners, trying to choose the next unlucky soul.

“Next, the Nord in the rags!” The Captain called, pointing straight at Z.

She barely registered the guards pulling her forwards by her biceps, her elbows bending out as they almost lifted her from the earth beneath her feet. Her toes dragged in the mud, her body went limp. She discreetly rebelled against her killers, her murderers. Of course she had to think deeper into her view, and her profession. 

As she reached the block she gained her feet and pushed, forcing the guards off her in a fluid event of motions. Once free she did nothing but stand, eye to eye with the Axeman, the executioner. 

He was masked. Shaggy hair covered his chin and neck, his face was covered by a mask highlighting his brown eyes. He was very muscular and solid, yet his skin was Redguard. Z put him down as a half Redguard, half Nord.

“Is my death truly right?” She asked, challenging her killer. The Axeman looked.

“It’s my job. You’re a criminal” The Axeman sounded so sure. Z pushed further.

“To some I am a murder, an evil bitch, to others I am a hero, a peacekeeper” Z was pushed to her knees by a foot in the back. Z struggled under the Captain’s heavy foot. The steel between her shoulder blades restricted her movement, her body pinned her hands. Her neck was in the round of the block, her eyes looking up at the Axeman. Something black flew past the mountains.

Z felt her heart quicken as the shouting began. The panic in the air was delightful for her. The Axeman had turned to stare as the black flashed through the sky again.

The Axeman returned and raised his axe. Z never closed her eyes as the Axeman lined his axe up then raised it again.

A black form landed upon the tower behind the Axeman. It was huge, lizard like with scales sharpened scythes darker than midnight on a moonless night Its face was like levels of plating going backwards, a giant snake like snarling beast with bright red eyes. A dragon.

“Dragon!” Someone screamed.

Z stared at the creature, one of the few dragons she had seen. It shocked her that she thought he was the second, she could no longer remember the first. It felt as if this creature had inflicted every negative thing in the world upon her. It was an instant hatred yet respect burning too hotly to be contained by either party.

Z leapt as the dragon breathed a pulse at her that threatened to tear her apart. She landed on her gut, head aching and arms trapped. She wiggled her arms free and covered her head as rocks and flame began to fall. The town was in panic. Arrows were flying and people were running. 

“Hey, kinsman. Get up! The gods won’t give us a second chance” Ralof called out as he jogged towards Z in a soldiers style. He was not trained as such, but he was very good at his duty. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Jarl Ulfric what is that thing? Could the legends be true?” Ralof asked in horror as he pulled the door shut. Z had already entered and knelt before a wounded soldier slashed across the gut.

She bent down and sniffed the wound, its vile odder only set the fate in stone.

She placed her hand on the soldiers cheek gently, wiping aside blood from a gashed eyebrow. Z was so swift in letting the poison of her ring settle in that the woman simply fell asleep. Ulfric was glaring at her as she rose, wiping the blood across her face in a handprint.

“Legends don’t burn down Villages” He spoke in his deep rumbling voice. Z looked out the window at the destruction drawing closer to the watch tower.

“By the gods” Ralof whispered as the Dragon destroyed the Inn as if it was a twig snapped beneath ones boot. The whole town was in ruins, the old stone towers still standing but time would wear them down.

“Gods have nothing to do with this” Z whispered, rising from her kneeling position.

“We need to move, now!” Ralof shouted. He looked around, Z was already running.

“Up through the tower, let’s go”

Z ran up the stairs, barley counting as she sprinted in a circle up the rocks carved and shaped to form the mighty tower. She leapt sideways as the wall beside her exploded.

She covered her eyes as the dragon breathed fire through the hole, bathing the inner rocks in a brilliant orange glow. Z was wincing at the heat as she leaned back behind the loosened rocks, saving her life. She didn’t register shouting and warning Ralof to stay back as a few soldiers burned in the flame. When the heat subsided she opened her eyes.

The rocks were still glowing with embers, burned blacker than midnight without the moon. She looked as Ralof rushed up and stared out the hole the dragon had made.

“See that Inn on the other side?” He asked. Z judged she could make the jump after a moment’s consideration. She nodded curtly.

“Jump through the roof and keep going” Ralof ordered. Z guessed he knew her skills. She didn’t hesitate as she jumped.

The smoke of the burning straw roof filled her nose as she landed. Unable to see she couldn’t land cleanly. She rolled forwards, feeling a bowel cling to her rump as she hit her head on a plate. She groaned and continued rolling, irritated she had failed such a simple jump. When she stopped she stood and jogged to the hole she had leapt through to see Ralof and Ulfric shaking their heads.

“Keep going! We’ll catch up when we can” Ralof yelled desperately. Z’s eyes stung as she swept a string of smoke aside. She blinked to clear the tears and soot from her eyes Ulfric spoke.

“Talos guide you child”

Z nodded and continued running. Guards tried to stop her, she managed to sprint and run through the streets with her hands bound.

Eventually she saw a child staring as the dragon landed. Unable to focus she simply tackled the kid aside, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as the dragon bellowed more flames for them. She felt the dirt dent under their combined weight as she forced her head down over the child’s, pinning him down.

When the dragon flew off she released the child and nodded. She gripped the young child and ran, hands bound as she made for the gate. 

She had no idea how long she ran but eventually the forest covered her from sight. Upon a high hill she gazed over the town, watching it burn as the child sobbed into her shoulder.

The air was covered in black smoke, screams echoing on the soft wind. The smell was sickening, Z only just noticed the smoke stench and burning flesh. Her mouth was watering in hunger and disgust. She allowed the child to sob into her as she began to rub her wrists against a stray rock she had picked up; the bindings would eventually break if she kept her head.

It took a while for her hands to be freed, but once free she unrolled a fur she had found and lay down. She was shocked when the child snuggled up before her sobbing. Uneasily she wrapped her arms around the child and let sleep take her.


	9. Chapter 9 – What Happens In Riverwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z experiences a true Welcome to Riverwood and the Hold of Whiterun.

Z spent a day roaming before she came upon a small town. The small child in her arms was an aid for blending in with the crowds. No one was looking for a Stormcloak rebel with a young child of four at her side.

Z had acquired a dark shirt and leather pants with a cloak that left he arms bare. It was solid leather, which clung to her appropriately. It highlighted every curve of her body while giving her an average appearance. The ability to blend or stand out depending on her mood. It suited Z perfectly.

She raised her brow as she walked through a gate with no gate. Under a bridge which allowed observation of the road she had come down. 

The first house that stood out had a sign before it. In an outdoor shelter with a forge within. The log fence like walls were covered by a straw roof with wooden beams made of unshaved tree trunks. The roof heightened as did the wooden walls as a main house started. 

Just before the house was a bridge over a shallow stream towards a mill.

Z made her way down the rock road, child in her arms. She passed several buildings made of wood and straw like the blacksmith home yet none held that open section. Some had an overhead area while others had a sheltered porch. Still, none had a forge.

She eventually entered the place that she assumed was an Inn due to the drunk Nord outside spitting vulgar language for his next mug of ale or mead.

She walked past several people and tables to hide in the corner, holding the sleeping child gently but unsurely. She was too young to be a mother. It was not by her age she was too young, despite being quite young for a Nord, it was her mental state she believed herself lacking. She had never had the responsibility to keep another alive; she had always had to make sure another died. The reverse was a fright for the poor assassin.

She quickly ordered some food then left the Inn. Roaming blindly across a bridge she found herself sitting just outside the mill against a tree near a huge tree stump that may have been larger than the forge. Just as sleep almost claimed her a sound jolted her awake. A sound so annoying, so terrifying that she was amazed the dragons were not defeated upon the cursed sounds beginning. The child began to cry. 

“Oh shit” Z mumbled. She held the child away from her as she stared at him. The brimming brown eyes were clamped shut as the child balled its eyes out. The tears streaming down its face were mixed with soot. 

“Be quiet” Z scolded, the child paused to look at her for a moment.

“By Sithis you are loud” She added, she didn’t realise how aggressive her whisper was until the child began to shriek again. This time louder.

Z sat with a frown on her face. Her teeth were held together as she grimaced. The child’s cries pierced her ears like the screech of a wild bird. It was so loud and jarring she swore her ears would soon begin to bleed.

“Shut up!” She spoke louder. The child continued to sob its heart out, screaming loudly enough that Z drew attention. With a burning rage she gripped the child’s shoulders and shook roughly.

“Shut up you little bastard!” She yelled, the child’s wails did not subside.

Z groaned. Removing her hands from the boy she quickly covered her ears and began to sing. 

“La la la” Over and over again she sung, raising her voice as the child’s cries became a scream. She had no idea what the kid wanted, other than to disturb her well-earned sleep. He had never been this painful before, now she wanted to murder every infant she saw. In this moment, hot sun burning down on the ground and the tree she hid under providing shade, she swore she would never have children.

Eventually an aging Wood Elf came to her rescue. He dumped a bowl of slops in front of the child, who began to eat ravenously. The elf then shot an accusing look to the exhausted Z.

She gazed up at him with rings beneath her eyes, soot down her face and gashes down her arms. The clothes she wore fit perfectly due to rough cutting and editing. It was obvious she was not a model citizen, either terribly poor or on the run. She was also far too young to be this child’s mother. The elf gave a sigh before he spoke.

“Where did you find the boy?” he asked in a friendly voice. His tone was not friendly in any form, but he held the joyful Wood Elf tone. Z saw his grey hair and pointed ears flicking in the wind as she whispered.

“Helgan” then fell into a fitful doze.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Z woke; horrified she gazed down her body. She felt sick at the sight of her naked body riddled with scratches and marks from an intense night. She straightened in the bed, unashamed that she was naked in a strange home. She worried for the child she had kept momentarily before something flashed back into her mind.

/“I have no home for him. I can’t keep him”  
“Then I shall. Provided you assissist”  
“I make money. You won’t be needing”/

She smirked, the elf was stuck with the young child now and she was free from the burden. Still, she felt she would miss the little bugger. 

Getting up she quickly found her clothes. It took a matter of seconds for her to get dressed; she was very speedy with clothing. The memories saddened her for a moment before Ralof walked in, his hairy chest bare.

“Finally awake” he said in a dull tone. Z felt it herself. They were both hung over.

Z sat at the table over the food he offered as he himself sat. The silence was tense. Z put the situation together with a growing sickness. It didn’t matter; Veezara had been dead for untold amount of days now… No wait. It was years. Z shook her head; time was too funny for her to even care.

“So... You haven’t got anything I can catch do you? I mean you were a true Nord woman in bed but I don’t want to pay for that later”

Z dropped her head into the table. How had she fallen to this?  
…………………………………………………………………………………..

 

The road gave way to Whiterun as Z continued her travels. She refused to allow her drunken haze to clear, preferring not to know for the first time in her life. She was disgusted with herself. She pushed the thoughts aside, thinking over them only made her feel sick. 

She roamed through the streets, blind to everything around her as she wondered. She found herself before the Jarl and ordered to watch for dragon attacks. She also was then required to go and fetch a stone from some cave. Naturally she ignored these orders, she was an assassin not a boot licker, not a dog trained to fetch on command. She would leave that to the Companions.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Once again Z found herself in Riverwood. She grunted at the looks she received. It appeared in her drunkin state she had made more friends than Ralof. Half of her wondered if Ralof had been running his mouth about her skills. That was one aspect Z was confident in. Her skill. No matter what aspect she knew she rose to the challenge. 

So why was she in Riverwood again? She kept questioning herself as she roamed up to Bleak Falls Burrow.

Once inside she entered the battle haze she developed. The next thing she remembered was sneaking up behind a strong Nord.

She crouched, feet silent on the ancient stone. Eventually she was right behind him. With a deadly calm she reached up and gripped his neck. Without straining she twisted his neck brutally to the left then wrenched his head to the right.

The Nord’s muscles quivered under her hands as she let them slide to his shoulders. The firm, tense mass beneath her hands was marred by sweaty grit that made her feel like taking a long bath to wash away the stench. Bandits were all the same, especially the lower class ones.

She wondered through the open gate, killed three skeevers then roamed down an old ramp into a room covered with spider web.

“Noo.. HELP!” A cry came from the next section over. Z peeked through the roots to stare in horror at the humongous spider now devouring the poor soul who had screamed. The spider continued to eat as Z crept into the room, a deathly calm flooding her being.

With a sudden leap she launched up to grip the webbed wall, wincing as her hand stuck. The Spider turned to glare at her with his multiple eyes. 

Z never missed a beat as she flipped from the wall to another, this time catching a non-sticky part of web. With another leap she launched to grip onto a dead body, she spun to stare the spider down.

The spider leapt for her with fangs and forelegs flaring. Z groaned as she had a split second choice. She dropped to the ground, hitting her back over a stone bench concealed under the spider webs. 

She screamed loudly in pain as she felt something break, there was no doubt she had chipped a bone and possible done worse. The spider was stuck above her, its black underbelly writhing with amazing muscle tone. The spider’s entire body seemed to be muscle, if only the face was prettier.

The spider managed to free itself, forcing Z to roll on her injuries. She winced as she knelt in the middle of the room, her fingers laced in an old drainage grate. As the spider launched a foreleg out to cut her Z pulled the loose grate open then slammed it down, trapping the spider's leg.

She scampered backwards, unable to draw her dagger as the spider freed itself and continued its ruthless assault on her. Z managed to roll beneath it, just avoiding being bitten. As the spider stared into the wall Z lifted a dead body. Void of all body liquid and very decayed it was light but enough to wield for a brief time as a weapon.

The spider lunged; fangs extended to end Z as soon as they could penetrate her delicate flesh and drain her bodily fluids like a mug of ale downed by a drunk, or an average middle aged Nord.

Z managed to draw her dagger and begin her assault on the spider, slashing for its eyes. AS she drove the blade into it’s face she slid underneath, trying to use her running momentum to injure the spider further. She stuck on web and was trapped beneath the spider’s hungry fangs.

In a void attempt to shield herself Z rolled so the spider’s attacks landed on her back. No longer caring as she kicked the spider in the underside then rolled out, being slashed across the leg by a foreleg in the process, Z attacked. She allowed her savage side to attack as the spider got a leg around her, pinning her towards its fangs. 

Desperate Z bit the spider’s fang. Hard. She held her teeth tight and shook her head with a savage growl as she bit the spider and punched at it. Her foot kicked its leg. 

She hated the smooth bone line sense with little circles of sharp, bristly hair. The taste was deliciously sweet, expected of such poison. The small hairs she choked on however. Determined to escape Z screamed into her bite. The spider pulled free and retreated to the grate then up a string of web into its nest.

Z, resting on the grate herself, scurried backwards in frenzy. She got to the roots that had grown into the burrow for its age and pulled herself to her feet, shaking desperately.

“Aela I’ve found something” A familiar voice broke into her daze. The face was so familiar that she trembled. It was the man from Whiterun two years ago. The large, dim witted warrior had a new scar on his brow, which contradicted her statement.

“You’re not real”

A second woman wondered in, Z couldn’t see but the strong voice helped.

“She’s been bitten”

“Where’s the spider?” The male warrior asked.

Z smiled in her daze. His voice was calming, deep and pleasant compared to the harsh sounds of the spider. She felt safe. She was likely to die anyway but she felt safe. It was the worst thing for an assassin to feel but the man’s hand on her shoulder brought a strange comfort.

Her strength faded as she fell forwards into the man, passing his shoulder as she collapsed to the ground, revealing her torn back from the spider’s fangs.

Her final thoughts were not about the perfect, moonlight colored eyes that made the semi decent looking warrior look even more appealing, she reflected upon her week with bitterness she was unfamiliar with and yet far too close.

She truly hated Riverwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its just ticked in my mind that I haven't mentioned that I have a youtube playlist for this story, as well as covers and screenshots posted on Deviant Art. Anyone who's interested just follow the youtube link. ((Is this against the rules?)) My deviant art username is EvoedBD, so head that way if you want to see screenshots of all the Skyrim Alliance Characters. from Z to Arada, and then some.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjEpw4O-WNI&list=PLabLSLpsKW4KXxyORxISimfWY2PE6AZ_a


	10. Chapter 10 – Pieces

“Farkas. Get your eyes of her body and follow me” Aela snapped. She shook her head as her Companion brother’s eyes travelled down the woman in his huge arms. She had to admit they looked good together, and the woman was fairly attractive. She had seen the girls Farkas looked good with however, all had turned out to be disappointing save one. 

“She had a note. Something about a dagon ooone? This writing is terrible” Farkas groaned, looking down at the note with a perplexed expression. Aela strode forwards, her anger and impatience obvious in the swing of her shoulders.

“Give me that!” She spoke firmly, snatching the note from Farkas’ hand before he could object. She scuffed her boots against the stone beneath her feet, making a scraping noise as she clicked her tongue thoughtfully. She read the torn writing, her eyes slowly widening as the content became evident.

Farkas was kneeling over the young woman they had found, his hand brushing aside the blood trickling from her nose. It had already partly dried, leaving a nasty smear to her cheek where his thumb had broken contact. He looked down at his large digit, the brownish red substance on the pad. He simply wiped it on his armour before staring down at the woman again. Concern was painted all over his face.

“By the eight divines” Aela started. She looked displeased at saying “eight divines” considering she was Nord, Talos was no longer considered a divine but the Nords still worshipped him. Aela swallowed her contempt of the Thalmor as she announced the strangest words she had ever spoken.

“This… girl, is on a quest for the Jarl of Whiterun’s court Wizard to find the Dragon Stone” Aela looked to the woman again in astonishment. The woman didn’t look like much. She was beautiful in a strange way, Aela couldn’t deny she held a certain charm and held a strong endurance. But she was not a warrior of unimaginable skills to work for the Jarl instead of the Companions.

“So. We should find this Dragon Stone then” Farkas said, picking the woman up over one shoulder. His other hand held his claymore awkwardly. Aela rolled her eyes. Despite also being silver they were not beautiful and moonlight like Farkas’ but they were sharp, much like a sunlight ray shining off a freshly polished blade. While Farkas was kind hearted Aela was a huntress.

“Are you going to drag that girls carcass around?” Aela snapped. Seeing the resolve in Farkas’ face she groaned her surrender then dove into the tombs once more. Through the spider’s nest. Unlike Z she was armed and ready; a few arrows ended the spider’s life and allowed her to continue onwards, stopping to pick up the Golden Claw they had been hired to retrieve.

 

……………………………………………………………….

 

Years ago

 

Z strode through the sands of Morrowind with a disgusted snort. She hated the sands, the heat and the scenery. She knew she was in a more barren part of Morrowind, an island of sorts. She didn’t hesitate as she walked through the ash. The volcanos continued to erupt and soak the lands in the ash of their burning out. The people were much like the ash, burnt out and brittle. Z had found little fire among them.

A truth hit her that she hated to admit, but denying it was foolish. She missed Veezara. Several men and some women had approached her for a loving night or two during her journey but Z had found her lust utterly mood killed. She had looked upon the naked flesh of several fine cut slaves, handsome appearance and the ruggedness she often found drawing but she had not found the longing she held for Veezara. It pained her to admit she was in love, even silently to herself.

Furthermore, she hated the human like creatures made of ash with veins of fire that attacked in this divines forsaken land. The cutthroats were enough, the Morag Tongue, another assassin guild, was worse. Z enjoyed disposing of the assassins sent after her for a short time before they became boring. It was the same, their most skilled fell into her traps and was killed, quickly due to Z’s professional courtesy.

Now she was hunting the master of some terrible magic experiments to fund her trip home. She could easily steal or kill, but she wanted to make an honest way home this time. She couldn’t explain her urges or her instincts to travel to where she did, but somehow she found herself in the right place at the right time. For an ash spawn attack.

The dead rose, fiery lines through their ash bodies as they attacked. Z didn’t need much prompting to slit ones throat, slash a second ones gut by falling to her knee in a spin and then to throw her dagger overhead at a third. The dagger never hit the ground as Z literally flew behind it and gripped the hilt, allowing the blade to slice through the disintegrating ash body.

She took a few minutes to breath, her eyes fell upon a Dark Elf with simular lines to the Ash spawn, yet he was alive. He was built more like a Nord than the typical Elf, strong and hulking. She took time to admire the almost naked figure before her before she spoke.

“Dark Elf. What’s your name?”

His eyes turned to her, revealing a decent looking face and red eyes that shone with a savageness Z had only seen in a few, Veezara enraged being one. The reminder struck her gut; she had to get home to him. The Elf’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Brand”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

She opened her eyes weakly upon hearing a startled holler from a woman. She was rested against a coffin, hidden away. She turned to the whispering she heard, is sounded something like “nas fir dir” or maybe it was “Fus Ro Dah” she couldn’t quite make it out in her state. She was hot, yet her blood felt frozen in her body. She knew she would die of hyperthermia before she died of age in this state. She had to move, to get warm. Even though it hurt Z rose to her feet and stumbled towards the whispering. 

She stumbled past a Drougar, a dead Nord preserved brilliantly yet the skin was greenish and zombiefied. They moved slower, and their armour had all but rotten from their bodies.

She fell to her knees before the wall, the whispering rushing to her very core. She was not aware of anything around her. It was no longer a world of solids, but a world of life force, energies glowing so brightly she was petrified. She looked to her own hands to see blackness woven with a blood red, blood on the hands of darkness.

She felt her body react suddenly. Her left hand shot out and grabbed a wrist, a dead, dried out wrist. She didn’t even flinch as the Drougar growled at her. She simply ducked a left handed swing and stood behind the Drougar. She pushed it into the wall before she shouted.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

The flames erupted and burned the Drougar to death. Its dried skin easily fuelled her magical fire as she stared, completely oblivious to everyone staring at her behind the coffin. The sound of the flames roaring was nothing to the heat blasting on her face, making her glow.

From behind her hair flickered in the slight wind; the flames were so bright no details of her body could be made out but the blackness of shadow. When she turned her head her shadow showed her nose, a flickering of light across the pale bridge which showed her dark eyes to Farkas and Aela.

Z turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of the warriors. The male was out of her view but the Female was clear. Z took a moment to judge the warrior.

She was very beautiful, if not savage. The kind of woman every man liked for their dominating nature and curvy body. Her face held a sharp, angled appearance with a pointed chin yet her low jaw seemed to curve. Her eyes were large and beautiful yet hard like battle steal. Her nose was not fine, appearing a little larger than pleasant and pointed. It made her appear even more assertive, adding to her looks. Her lips were small, painted black. Z noticed the green bands angling down her face. Her skin was sun kissed, yet not far from its birth tone. She was obviously a huntress.

Eventually weakness overcame Z as she bent to pick the stone tablet she had been sent for. Then she fell once again. Strong arms caught her, or so she believed. Reality no longer held any appeal as she stumbled into the void of Sithis for a while.

………………………………………………………………………………

 

Z sat, staring at the dragon carvings. The stone was black, flames flickering in old styled torches. 

In her hands she held a book. It was small, black made leather with pages that felt old before even being opened. In its cover was a design that could not be seen by a normal eye, only the eye of a dragon could depict it. How then?

“Dovahkiin… Dragonborn”

……………………………………………………………………………………

 

Z opened her eyes to a luxurious room in Dragons Reach. The Jarls hall in Whiterun was incredible; the carvings gave the place away. Not to mention Z had cased the place should she have to assassinate the Jarl. She actually found herself wishing she could have the challenge. She smiled, feeling like herself instantly. Her shows of generosity had nearly cost her Z her life.

She felt the furs clinging to her and realised in horror she was naked, her wounds stitched up and healing. She however doubted anything had happened, merely a kind heart saving her life. Maybe do gooding wasn’t so bad either. She operated in the shadows, but she was never one for chaos without organisation. That was something that made her so dangerous.

She quickly got her armour on and tightened it, several of her wounds rejected the treatment and ached but she could ignore it. As she fastened her belt with her dagger sheath the Jarl himself walked in.

“Dragonborn” He acknowledged her as she froze, hands still pulling her belt tight as she stared at him with a tilt of her head. She didn’t let the words shake her; something kept telling her that she may very well be part Dragonborn, or something similar. Her dreams, or were they her nightmares? She didn’t know anymore.

“I see a reputation precedes me” Z spoke simply, turning with her hands behind her back. She calmly regarded the Jarl as if he were a simple commoner not a man who could have her head. The fact he knew she was Dragonborn meant he must know other things about her as well. She didn’t even try to deny his accusation.

“The woman who killed the Emperor would have quite a burden to live up to expectations” Jarl Balgruuf The Great of Whiterun spoke to the assassin with his own steady tone. Unlike Z he was not calm inside. The woman could murder with a few words, and she knew it. His knowledge did not seem to unbalance his opponent; in fact she seemed to grow even more comfortable. He swallowed discreetly, Z unfortunately noticed.

“Relax little Jarl. If I wanted you dead you would be” Z smiled coolly at him, letting her dark eyes catch the light. The way she held herself was scaring the Jarl; she was not flaunting the feminine, beautiful side of her looks rather letting the shadows disguise her from his eyes. She had woken naked and was positive he had seen her in all her glory, but the vision of him being vulnerable in his own hall was too great to resist.

“I could say the same to you” The Jarl replied. Z smiled, the old lion still had claws. She knew her words would express everything as she smirked.

“My claws are long and sharp my Jarl, as long and sharp as yours” She kept herself feeling cryptic but she left nothing hidden. The Jarl was petrified of the cool assassin. Such a pretty woman had such a cold heart that his almost broke. He wondered what she had endured to become this, but nodded his respect.

“A bards tongue in a murderer’s mouth?”

“An Assassin’s” Z let a minor touch of offence trickle in her tone. The Jarl looked confused.

“A murderer does it simply because they can. An Assassin is more restricted, we have codes and rules among ourselves. My family was killed, after they saved me and trained me. Our organisation is honourable among crime, my Jarl” Z continued calmly. She stared out a window for a moment before she turned her head, letting the light catch the side of her face to make her appear ghostly.

“An alliance with us would be mutually beneficial to all involved” she held herself looking to the Jarl who let a surprised laugh escape his lips.

“You are trying to broker a crime deal with the Jarl himself! You girl, are either incredibly brave or interested in chains for the rest of your life” The Jarl was not threatening at all, he found himself respecting the girls wit as she smiled. 

“Our deals are not unreasonable, merely considered distasteful to some. We would like permission to have a few informants placed in the city. In return for your lenience upon their petty crimes, say lock picking, we will give you all their names so you may have them watched as you see fit. Providing they can act as expected the rules are your own. We will also draw freelance business from your fine hold. We are like security… We can operate within or… away from your fine laws” Z chose her words with care, seeing the Jarl’s resolve wane. If it benefitted his people he would agree. Z smiled, knowing she could have this man in her pocket with a few well worded persuasions. 

“Very well. But, as Dragonborn you must live up to the name. You must have a cover that hides you from the new, shady associates that will be residing in Whiterun” the Jarl’s quick turn of tongue left the assassin amused as she nodded her acceptance.

“I am assuming you have an idea”

“You will join The Companions” The Jarl smirked as he almost purred the words.

Z’s mouth fell open.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Z was somewhat nervous as she walked down the hall towards the carrying voices her leather boots moving silently. She was a master of stealth and murder, deadly with a short blade or a well-used spell. Sometimes a combination. But in combat with armour and a shield she was about as skilled as Farkas was rumoured to be with his mind.

“But I still hear the call of the blood” A warrior spoke.

 

His face appeared somewhat squared, with angled, hollowing cheeks. His face was clean shaven, the light layer of hair more controlled than hair. His hair was also shoulder length, brushed back elegantly in his dark brown glory. His nose was exactly like Farkas’, except on him it somehow looked like he was turning it up to everyone. His eyes were bluish white, more like the ice of Skyrim than the moon. 

The gold armour he wore had wolves carved into it, brown fur where the metal would not allow flexibility. His neck swelled a little, clearly the tighter styled armour made him appear somewhat smaller than Farkas, who he bore a striking resemblance to.

Z’s need and instinct for secrecy took over; she pushed her back to the stone cold wall. Shadows were her mask, cloak and armour as she literally turned invisible as the magic kicked in.

“It is our curse to bare, Vilkas” The second man spoke. Z assumed this was Kodlak.

His forehead was wrinkled, his Nordic braided locks of hair silver. To call him grey was undignified, especially for a man of such an age in such fine shape. 

His eyes retreated into his head, bluish grey, yet wise and kindly. There was no mistaking the fact he was a warrior. His eyes were wide spread around the bridge of his nose. His nose was large, the tip hooked somewhat. His face was square, low cheekbones and hollowing cheeks. The face paint down the right side mellowed the hollowing down a little, as did the grey beard that hung thickly from his chin.

The conversation continued on and on.

“You have my brother and me obviously, but I don’t know the rest will come along quite so easily” Vilkas spoke. By now Z had put two and two together. Farkas and Vilkas were twins, however Vilkas was the cleaned up version while Farkas was rugged. There was little contest. 

Z allowed herself to become visible and took a calming breath. Her mind had run away with her again in thought, memories of her father, for some strange reason. She strode through the door, trying to appear intimidating yet open.

“A stranger comes to our halls” Kodlak spoke as Z strode through the ancient archway, a determined frown on her face, her midnight blue eyes only briefly scanning Vilkas.

“I wish to join the Companions” She spoke quietly, deciding shyness here could work to her advantage. The man Kodlak seemed so much like her father, save more controlled. The memories were stabbing at her heart, the longer she stared at Kodlak the more her throat swelled.

“A crying woman?” Vilkas snorted in disgust. 

“Forgive me. You remind me of my father Kodlak, he has departed this life. As for the woman line…” Z thought for a moment, letting her glare settle.

“ I’ll let you off this time Vilkas, but never again”

“What makes you think you could take me?” Vilkas demanded. Z never missed a beat.

“What makes you think I couldn’t?” She spoke in the quiet voice she had decided to adopt among the warriors, yet she knew every word hit its mark as Vilkas remained silent. Kodlak laughed for a moment, a warm, fatherly laugh.

“Yes. A certain strength of spirit” Kodlak made a hmm sound as he rubbed his chin. He let his eyes wonder Z, not in a way that made Z feel violated, rather how he would eye a warrior. This man did not hold age or gender against her.

“Master! Surely you’re not considering accepting…” Vilkas trailed off lost for words.

“Her” he finished lamely. Z gave him another collected glare, satisfied when Vilkas averted his eyes momentarily. 

“I am nobody’s master Vilkas. And last I checked we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts” Kodlak turned to face Vilkas. His tone was assertive yet not aggressive. Z instantly changed her view somewhat. This man was far more controlled than her father.

“Apologies. Perhaps this is not the time but I’ve never even heard of this outsider” Vilkas informed Kodlak respectfully.

/“Of course you wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t be doing my job if you knew about me”/ Z snapped in her mind, the cocky grin that reached her face earned a glare from Vilkas. His glare was icy but hardly intimidating to her as she held it, smile widening at the shock in his eyes.

“Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart” Kodlak spoke wise words but they did not sate Vilkas.

“And their arm” he replied dryly to the Harbinger.

“Of course. Now, how are you in battle girl?” Kodlak asked his question. Z felt no need to brag, but to make an impression.

“I am not one for boasting. I am alive in this world, despite the attempts of others to change that”

“That may be so. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm when morning comes. For now, rest in our hospitality” Kodlak ordered. Z nodded in respect and walked back the way she had come. Once out of ear shot of the two warriors she let out a breath of pain, clutching at her wounds. She still had some recovering to do.

………………………………………………….

She fell into the bed in the far corner, hidden by shadows and the wall. Sleep had become an uneasy time for her. Dreams haunted, voices spoke and nothing made sense. Still, her eyes were heavy and thus she let her body droop and her eyes flutter closed. Sleep claimed her minutes later.

“The night mother. Sithis came to her and bore her five sons. She killed them in his name”

The voice she always heard guiding her spoke. Her dreams had begun.


	11. Chapter 11 – Falling

Chapter 11 – Falling

 

Z woke feeling fresh; her dreams had once again been informative but not overwhelming. She feared the night it would become too much, but this night had been better for some reason. Z wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, or an old dragon in the eye. She pulled her armour tight and drew her dagger, missing the Blade of Woe terribly. She made do with her simple steel dagger; it had served her well thus far. Still, she intended to make a new one once she had the time.

She walked out, bumping into Kodlak along the way.

“Vilkas. Take her out into the yard and see what she can do” Kodlak ordered of the man beside him. Vilkas looked utterly pissed off that this was happening, his brows lowered in the most insulting gesture he could subtly achieve.

“Aye” Vilkas replied before storming off. Z was at a loss here as she broke into a jog to keep up with the long legged man. That was his edge over her, even so Z acted graceful and dangerous. Everyone’s eyes pinned on her, including those of Farkas.

“Brother she’s still wounded” Farkas gripped his brothers arm and pointed out. Vilkas spat a low sentence only Farkas heard.

“I don’t care. Where is this yard?” Z finally spoke up, the brothers looked to her. She was shocked to see a tinge of respect in Vilkas’ eyes.

“Ah. A woman of action who isn’t a milk drinker” Aela spoke boldly, placing an approving hand on Z’s shoulder. Z held Aela’s gaze, not in hostility but rather determination. She continued earning respect, if not envy.

She was shown out the doors into a yard of sorts. She looked to the far stone wall of Whiterun, which was adorned with a few models to represent enemy people. Z smirked at the buckets serving as helmets and the wooden swords.

“The old man said to have a look at you. So, let’s do this” Vilkas dew his blade with a slashing motion. Z could have rolled her eyes at the dramatic look as she drew her dagger simply.

She looked down her dagger slowly, taking in the nicks in the steel blade before she looked to Vilkas, turning her eyes alone.

“This isn’t a fair fight” She spoke softly, loud enough to be heard however. Vilkas stood up and gestured to Aela.

“Find her a sword”

“The fight isn’t fair for you, Vilkas”

He rushed without warning, baring his blade down at her with a strong, overhead strike. Z thrust her blade against his as she side stepped. Holding his blade down with her own she lifted her knee and drove it into Vilkas’ gut with a timed, horrible precision. As Vilkas bent down she brought her elbow down into the back of his neck.

She stared down as Vilkas coughed and gasped on his hands and knees. The mud clung to the metal of his armour, oozing up between his fingers as he tensed. Z held a dagger pointed at him as he caught his breath, she was not dumb enough to let him up before she had proven a point and left him somewhat humiliated before his brother, Aela, and others Z had not met. After a few minutes she calmly removed her blade point from Vilkas, allowing him his pride somewhat returned. He was no longer forced to his knees by a new soul among the Companions.

“Not bad” Vilkas approved as he got to his feet. He rubbed his neck, holding his stomach with very little grace. It was obvious he had not expected this of Z.

“Next time it won’t be so easy” he smirked, almost boyishly for a moment before he became serious.

“Will I be asleep next time too?” Z asked before she could control her tongue. Vilkas’ scowl returned as he stood over her, the height difference was a small advantage considering Z could easily punch him in his most valuable tool to a family legacy.

“You may have proven yourself, but you’re still a whelp to me” Vilkas stood up, suddenly the urge to strike filled Z. she held herself back with a slow drift of her eyes and a gathered fist, her point was not lost upon Vilkas as he drew his blade.

“Here’s my sword. Go take it up to to be sharpened” Vilkas shoved the blade into Z’s arms. Instead of replying she simply stormed off, her boots squelching with each infuriated stomp she took. She knew her face was a storm cloud, every muscle tensed in anger.

“And be careful! It’s probably worth more than you are” Vilkas added in a yell when Z was well on her way. She bit her lip with a snarl as she rounded the corner. She refused to rise to the bait this time.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………

Years ago

 

Z sat in the dark stone quarters. She had two sets in her new home, the Listener’s she had left bare in exchange for a resting place among the dead. She had found the place when her curiosity and urge for privacy had taken over her common sense to not explore the ice unaccompanied.

She stroked down her forearm slowly, tracing the deep gouge in her skin. Magic was a useful tool, but also a painful one. Z had the ability of magic, yet somehow she hid away from being a mage. She used the flame spells on occasion to melt what she needed, or to cause distraction. Never had she used a blood spell, or a vengeance one. Until upon the Emperors death.

Her finger traced over the nail of her left middle finger, slowly traveling up to her knuckle. She bit down hard on nothing, her teeth clashing against the others as she traced down over her wrist, up her outer forearm to her elbow. She would not complain, this is what she had asked for. She had invoked this, now only actions would free her.

She tore her hands away and gathered them into fists as the pain returned. The blood was already running down her arms from the reopened wounds as she winced. Down both arms from fingertip to elbow along the outer side were deep cuts. They healed into black scars, every day they bled and ached. There was no relief from the magics she had invoked. The promise to the dead. 

To Astrid.

To Arnbjorn.

To Gabriella.

To Liz.

To Festus Krex.

To The Night Mother.

To Sithis.

To Veezara.

She had promised to pay in blood. She had sacrificed her blood to kill in their honour. Her hands would forever be stained in blood but she would no longer live in fear. She was chosen to kill the Listener herself. And to bring vengeance upon those who had slain her family.

She screamed as the line she had traced blared in flames, her blood more like thick oil that caught on fire and dripped from her skin to the black stone beneath. Once touching the stone it returned to normal blood, completely unhindered by the magic. The line itself closed over, leaving a faint, thin white line down her arm. 

She heard the footsteps before she was seen cradling her arm weakly to her body. She managed to sit back on her heels, kneeling calmly as she rested her hands on her knees, fingers alone tensed to hold the pain within. It was new to her, and it seemed to find ways past her mental barriers.

“You do not endure alone, my child” The voice returned to her briefly. Z sighed; the comfort was a small one. She knew this was her burden to carry, no one else could carry it for her. They could only encourage with empty words.

“Thank you” she whispered so quietly she was not sure she had even made a sound, she knew only that her mouth had moved. The footsteps stopped at the door of her self-made quarters. None dared enter the darkness of her lair.

“Mistress?” The voice of a younger recruit came. Z sighed quietly, calming her senses before she trusted her voice to be cold and controlled. She had found her stone exterior aided the scared recruits who were yet to find the steel Z had naturally.

“Commander Maro is dead”

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Present

 

Z stood in her leather armour with her cloak on. It was gusty, the winds whipping the snows near Dawnstar into Z’s eyes and across her body. She held her cloak wrapped around her, hood pulled down over her eyes. 

She reflected on her month working with the Companions. They had been unable to train Z out of her style, rather they had chosen to keep her wielding a shorter blade and playing to her strengths. She was able to wear armour now, although she preferred leather she could also wear steal and be unaffected by its weight. She had also gotten along well with Aela, the two women were both huntresses in their own right after all. Z was also shocked to find Farkas unique company. No matter how smart her insult his dim wit came back with a reply she could never anticipate. She assumed he was far too slow for her to even judge, yet he delivered his quips and replies with a tongue almost as fast as her own.

Z had continued walking, shaking off the snow from her shoulder and the amusing memories with the Companions. They were homely but they were not where she belonged. Each step Z took in the snow made a loud crunch. The build-up caused Z to sink ankle deep in the thick snows. Z’s soft footing was all that spared her sinking to her knees.

She had been given some time to visit her family, so she had told the Companions. Returning to her home after some time was a scary prospect for Z, yet she had leapt upon the chance to bring The Jarl of Whiterun’s message to Nazir and Babette. None could find her, yet few believed her dead. Her vengeance had been known, since her escape from prison, the first one, she had been assumed in deep hiding. She herself had called a contract on herself, only to be refused. It amused her how easily she could be forgotten yet her name was revered like she was a Listener.

As she continued through the snow she could feel the gaze on her, several watching her with evil intent. She chuckled as her hand closed around her dagger within her cloak. She caressed the curved hilt of the blade she had made a few days ago. It was made of ebony yet there were no silver markings, making it blacker than night and leaving nothing to draw attention. Until it was far too late. It was a beautiful blade, one she had refused to name. it was easier to part with a blade she was not attached to. This blade was still a virgin, thirsting for blood.

She spun fast enough to block the dagger thrown at her. With a savage spin she freed her uncovered arms from her cloak, showing the glowing scars down her arms as they caught in the light bouncing from the snow. The shadows teased on her vision as she stood, her whole body listening for the next attack.

With a fury she spun and grabbed the wrist of another assailant. She twisted, throwing a foot behind his knee as she spun him to face forwards into the oncoming arrows. He dropped dead, blood staining the snows as he twitched. By then Z had thrown two daggers and caught the remaining bandits with the crude blades. She turned to face the final man charging and drove her fist up.

She felt the blood running down her bare hand, teasing the scars she had made. She felt the warmth and peace as she whispered a shout.

“Lass Yah Nir”

Instantly the man’s life force began to glow, a flickering red in her blackened vision. The dagger itself was black, revealing the cold as it dug into the skin. Z’s expression was blank as she twisted slowly, watching the red flicker and the black spin. She randomly jolted her hand, enjoying the patterns she was making in the colours. Finally the life force grew weaker, continuing to fade until it was a little patch in the man’s chest. Just as her vision began to return to normal the red went out.

“Amateurs” Z scoffed then continued on her way. Her blade was a virgin no more.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Her quarters had not changed. They were dark, almost beyond seeing, even with the candles glowing in the room. Her bed was a double, hidden in among the coffins with a curtain closing the section of wall off. The rest of her room bare, the walls covered in weapon racks and targets.

She smiled as she placed her bag down and began to find the metallic add ons to her armour. After a while she found the left arm which was a metal plate with spikes. Ebony, like her blade yet designed to appear deadric. Without the blood however it held no glow. She had opted to add blood to the tips, giving them the faint glow which blended with her armour or the casual dark brotherhood attire.

Once dressed she strode up into the halls and sat at the table, alongside several of the recruits. She smiled at how they didn’t even notice her; she had infiltrated their hideout and their dining table in the obvious metal arm. Even Nazir and Babette didn’t notice her, even with her keen sense of smell Babette either didn’t notice or opted to ignore Z. Finally Z gave into the temptation.

“Nazir hand me the meat” Z paused at the sudden tenseness in the room; it didn’t bring the smile it once would have.

“And put that down before you hurt yourself. If you’re not good with cutlery how do you plan an efficient kill?” Z flicked her wrist and knocked the knife out of a startled recruit’s hand. She needn’t look to know everyone was shocked, mouths open as Nazir and Babette smiled.

Nazir was aging, his hair was tinged with grey and wrinkles showing around his eyes. After untold years he saw Z again, appearing very much like she had when he had last seen her. It was a shock to both him and Babette to see their friend sitting so casually at their table as if the years hadn’t passed.

Wordlessly they hugged her, startling the assassin for a moment before she returned the gesture awkwardly. It was enough to make them both smile and laugh softly as they broke the three on hug.

“I’ll be damned. I thought you were dead” Nazir grinned. 

“Z? What brings you here? Have you come home?” Babette asked like a child. She appeared like a child but Z viewed her as an aunt, something that bewildered many people. The vampire was gifted with poisons, one reason why Z always took antidotes even when she was not sure on the poisons. Paranoia was hard to live with at the best of times, but growing up with Babette always testing her poisons was even worse.

“I have a contract from the Jarl of Whiterun. We can move contacts in at our pleasure” Z spoke in the assassin quiet yet confident tone. Babette was unable to hide the disappointment on her face as Nazir shook his head with a small smile.

“You couldn’t come for a social call?” Babette asked in a small tone. Z wanted to smile but she couldn’t, she settled for wrapping an arm around Babette’s shoulders and smiling.

“I came to see you. Both of you. But I am still me” Z sighed, the other assassins grinned as they sat down beside her at the table and began talking.

After a few minutes Babette and Nazir were laughing loudly as Z smiled her amusement. She was always disconnected but this felt worse. It wasn’t like coming home to her long lost family. There was an unspoken awkwardness between them from Z’s point of view. It wasn’t comforting to be there, the nagging sensation of doubt kept eating away at her. She knew why his no longer felt like home. 

Veezara wasn’t there.

…………………………….

“She is falling” The first spoke.

“Aww. Such a shame. Ah well” a second shrugged.

“It is now we will learn if she can truly fly” a third wisely stated.

“That’s cheap advice coming from a dragon Ak…” the second started.

“We should call them. If she is truly one of their children, they will come and she will succeed” The first spoke.

“Or maybe the other will fail” The second chuckled.

“They do not engage. It is impossible to negotiate with a void” A forth cut in.

“For her, they will come” The third spoke defiantly, yet the cool perfection was enough to silence the arguments of the others.

“Let her dream once more”

 

……………………………………………………………………………..

“The night mother. Sithis came to her and bore her five sons. She killed them in his name. But did she kill them at birth? Or did she allow them to age before she committed a true sacrifice to the Dread Lord Sithis?”


	12. Chapter 12 – Dustman’s Cairn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z and Farkas venture to Dustman's Cairn, where several secrets are revealed.

Her quarters in the Companions hall were open, bright, shared with several questionable figures. Z disliked the openness, the light and the snoring from Torvar. She sat on her bed, facing the wall and her pillow as she traced the scars on her arms, a nervous habit.

Another two marks had faded since Maro, one for the Emperor and another for saving the family. She almost admired the faint lines of the faded scars; they almost seemed to shine like moonstone against her flesh. She was however not stupid, this kind of magic was frowned upon and feared. Many had tried to deal in the power inspiring art only to be killed. Since the dealer had been caught the lines were suddenly a mark of shame not something to boast about. It had been while Z was still in prison; even now she knew not how long she had spent in the cold walls and shadows. Time was funny in a cell.

She barely noticed the footsteps of a large man coming up behind her, however she did notice. After a brief moment of tenseness she relaxed. She knew the gait, the calm strides that could rival the most glorious strut. Farkas was simple, but he was a fine man. She shook the thoughts as she pulled her gauntlet tight, unwilling to show the lines to him. It seemed he had seen them however when his eyes lingered. 

/“Such a soft gaze” / Z thought for a moment, however her mouth spoke a more collected sentence.

“Is there something you wish, Farkas?” her voice was softer than she had intended, the cold, collected side was there but she had also let a whispering element slip in. Farkas seemed bewildered for a moment, staring at her face as she turned her head to look at him out the corner of her eye.

“Huh? … Oh! Skjor was looking for you earlier. I am to be your shield brother on this mission” Farkas shook his daze off as Z smiled. It amused her she had found a way to work over Farkas. Her victory was short lived however as his smile widened.

“You have dimples!” He exclaimed, pointing at her cheek with a huge smile that could have split a bear for its size. Z was not impressed however, scowled darkly at him, letting every ounce of her displeasure seep into her expression.

“I do not!” She spoke indignantly. Dimples were not on a hardened assassin.

“You do too!” Farkas quipped like a child.

“By Sithis Farkas, shut up!” Z scolded as she rose, trying to escape the embarrassment as she blushed. It was a rare thing for her, one that earned a chuckle from Farkas.

“You’re adorable when you blush” he teased. There was a part of seriousness in his statement; he would never finish the sentence. He had paid attention to the mysterious little warrior over her time in the Companions. He had developed something of a crush on Z, yet he would not force that. No women liked him, so he chose to ignore the feeling. He stored it in the back of his mind.

“May you trip and land in the void!” Z pouted bitterly, her nose was screwed up and flaring.

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry and blushing” Farkas noted with the perfect voice to drive Z insane. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to hit him then she wondered why she even bothered. She saw red when Farkas winked at her.

“Farkas. I will kill you” Z glared directly at him, her tone flat and deadly. Farkas swallowed. He did not doubt one word.

Their eyes met again. Z’s were dark and angry, more black than blue in this moment. Her jaw was tense, brow crinkled and lips almost curling up to bare her teeth. It was amusing to Farkas a small thing would hold so much fire. He found himself smiling like a fool, eyes twinkling mischievously as he considered a reply.

“Well, I’m already as smart as a zombie. That’s something” He finally shrugged after an awkward cough. Z shook her head she smiled again, dimples showing briefly before she hardened her smile and hid them away. Farkas stored that away. Her genuine smile had dimples.

“Can we just get going?” Z asked in a pained tone. She was not going to pick on the man any more than she needed too, somehow he always bested her.

“Sure thing… dimples”

“Oh shut up!”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………

“You wanted to see me?” Z asked of the man talking to Aela. 

Skjor was a balding man, his hair grey despite his age being in the forties. He was not one who aged gracefully. One of his eyes was a dark brown, furious as a storm but as collected as a taxman’s files. His brow was heavy set, but it appeared less heavy. His other eye was blind white, a scar ranging that side of his squared face. His cheeks hollowed, covered his a scruff. His cheeks had two stripes each of war paint. His nose was large and pointed, his lips thick but bunched and his jaw strong and angled. He was everything a warrior should aspire too. Balding, blind in one eye, tough and somewhat stupid.

Z wondered what Aela saw in him. She was younger, far more attractive. She guessed their shared passion for some kind of hunt they whispered about bound them. She often found herself considering Skjor like Arnbjorn. They both had an animal inside.

“I did. Your time, it seems, has come”

Z remained silent; her gaze flickered to a foolishly grinning Aela before she returned it to Skjor giving the bald man a questioning look. He missed her point, guessing she was interested in the quest. Aela was less oblivious and averted her gaze with a blush. That was Z’s answer when she let a smug tinkle touch her eyes. Aela continued to blush as Skjor continued on.

“Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrod. He seemed a fool to me, but if he’s right, the honour of the Companions demands that we seek it out” Skjor paused, watching Z’s reaction intently. As usual Z fooled him with a blank reaction. She knew of the axe well, and its importance to the Companions.

“What does this have to do with me?” She asked simply.

Z stood around as Skjor gave her a long debriefing, warning her of every possible outcome of failure, most were violent. He seemed to hold back on information, looking to Farkas with a silent warning often. Finally Z broke.

“And I have to do this with… him?” She asked in a childish tone, gesturing to Farkas with a shrug of her shoulders and a tilt of her head. For a second everyone was shocked by her foolish gesture and tone, many smiled to themselves. The conclusion had been reached long ago that Z had a soft spot for Farkas and Aela, more so for Farkas.

“Yes. That is final” Skjor cut off any route for complaint as Z growled softly. The rumble in her throat came out smooth and silky yet clearly enraged and animalistic. It was strange hearing such a sound from Z, who was usually so collected. 

“Just think sister, it could be Vilkas” Aela commented. Z’s responding glare could have made a dragon bend its head in defeat. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Inside the Cairn’s entrance was like a cave, the rock curving and tunnel like. Z couldn’t help feel uneasy; her senses raged that this was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. Farkas seemed to notice her discomfort as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Get the shard, get out. See if you impress” he reinforced his point by tightening his grip on her for a moment. Even through their armour Z felt the warmth of his hold and nodded her silent appreciation. Never would she utter the thank you aloud.

They walked silently down the tunnel which sloped in simular angle to a hill, into another room. The roof was uneven, something Z noticed before she saw the walls. Drougar graves. She wondered how many would come to life to attack them. Her attention snapped to a dug tunnel at the opposite end of the room, past the table with a chest and shovel leaning against it.

She walked up to the pickaxe on the table and lay her fingers gently on the metal, which was still damp from the mud. She looked around the room again. Several Drougar lay fallen from their coffins, disrespected beyond words. Z found it sick, that dead this old could still be violated. At the same time they no longer had a care for their worldly bodies; it was more the unspoken morals of someone who could not afford to have such morals.

“Looks like someone’s been digging here. And recently. Tread lightly” Farkas gazed around the room with less scrutiny than Z, yet he too saw the situation.

Z took a few strides to the closest fallen Drougar and knelt. She touched her hand to the leathery, dead flesh with a grimace. She pulled the neck gently, turning the body to see the face. After a moment she closed her eyes and bowed her head, fingers on the Drougar’s forehead, between her eyes.

“Rest peacefully. Embrace the void of the Dread Lord” Z spoke the prayer quietly; unaware that Farkas had heard every word. He was stupid but not pathetically so, he knew full well who Z was speaking about. Quickly he put two and two together. He chose not to reveal his knowledge, knowing it could be his death or his mistake.

They continued down the hacked path, only to discover it was made like the rest. Z changed the scenario to a cave in whoever had dug in had been forced to clear. They continued downwards, around a corner to inspect an Iron door. Z had to admit, the patterns called to her sense of artistic enjoyment. She loved the ancient markings, knowing some of their meanings.

“A burial room” she whispered, pushing the door gently. She was pleased to discover it was not brittle and rusted. Strangely it was well kept, clean. This also made her doubt they were alone in the tomb. The door surrendered to her gentle touch and swung open as if touched by magic. Z was not shocked, doors responded to her in this way, especially in old ruins.

“Be careful around the burial stones. I don’t want to haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back” Farkas spoke quietly; the slight rumble to his voice almost obscured his words. Z loved the sound of his voice, even if it said the most obvious things.

“Please” she scoffed, letting herself sound slightly offended. She was not one to be taken down by Drougar. They were slow and clumsy, their dry skin and old rags of remaining clothing caught flame easily. The advantage was to the quick assassin and her lump of a Companion.

Z moved quietly, her daggers drawn. Farkas however was less sneaky, his armour clanked and his sword hit the wall with a loud noise.

Z turned to see the Drougar walking up on Farkas as he tensed, something wasn’t right. His focus was not on the task at hand, he didn’t even move as the Drougar raised its large axe. Z reacted faster than a viper, throwing her dagger into the Drougar’s throat. She jogged up past the stunned Farkas and knelt around the struggling Drougar. With her other dagger she drove the pommel down into the Drougar’s forehead and eyes. After several hits it groaned and the glowing eyes went dead once more. Z snatched the hilt of her dagger and pulled it free of the dead thing with a silent yet smug smile.

Z looked around quickly, calculating how many there would be. When she heard the sound of an ice spell been cast Z pulled the dead Drougar up, blocking the barrage of ice hurtling towards her. Farkas snarled as he took a stride forwards.

“You take out the Restless, I’ll handle the rest” Z commanded, rising to her feet as she saw another two Drougar approaching.

“Gladly” Farkas snarled in reply just before he charged the Drougar with a ferocious yell. Z was glad she was on his side as she shook her head.

She charged the Drougar she had her sights on, another stood between her and her target. When close enough she leapt, her feet almost slipping on the vines growing in the tomb. She drove her dagger into the Drougar’s chest mid-air. When she landed she rolled forwards, slashing her dagger across the second’s gut. She kept with the spin as she ducked beneath the Drougar’s clumsy swing. Once behind she bent its head sideways and brought her black dagger across its throat. Instead of removing her blade she kicked the Drougar forwards towards its rising companion. She almost yelped as the head rolled over her shoulder, touching her cheek on its path to the floor.

She strode forwards to catch her dagger in the first Drougar’s chest, resting her other across its throat. It hissed at her, which amused Z. She felt so unsatisfied killing Drougar. They felt no pain, had no brain for anything but attacking. 

/“At least they smell better than Zombies or Ash Spawn”/ Z thought as she spun with all her might. Her dagger tore free from the Drougar’s chest after ripping it open. Her other dagger tore the throat apart, leaving all but a flap of skin holding the Drougar’s head to its shoulders severed.

…………………………………………………………………………

 

They had roamed a few cobweb infected hallways into a large, circular room. To the left was a throne set up, as best Z could tell. Then a room with the gait raised, the next had caved in, a third entrance was blocked by a gate. Then a morgue looking set up with a Drougar wrapped up on a dining table. Z couldn’t help smirk at that, her feet light on the vine covered stone.

“There must be a release somewhere for that gate” Farkas observed, moving to check the throne.

Z moved silently to the small, open room. She inspected several poisons and ruined books in the shelves before she found a lever. Against all her training she gripped then pulled with all her might. She rushed for the falling gate, however she was too late. She growled as she tugged on the gate to no avail.

/“Trapped”/ her thoughts raged. Instantly her heart began to pound mercilessly. For a moment her breathing became uncontrollable as she stared around the room then to where Farkas had been. She could not see him.

“Farkas!” she yelled out, panic in her voice. She cursed herself as she heard him approach, using the seconds to compose herself into the steel. He would understand her tone, but never her expression.

“Now look what you’ve gotten into” Farkas scolded Z as he walked into view. Despite his words his eyes glowed micheviously, he couldn’t contain his smirk as he stared at Z’s altercation with ancient traps. Z rolled her eyes at him as Farkas tried his best not to laugh.

“Don’t worry” Farkas chuckled. Z wanted to slap him for laughing at her. She quickly corrected herself to hit. Assassin’s did not slap like a little bitch.

“Just sit tight, I’ll find the release” he finished in the deep voice. After a moment’s pause to appreciate that voice Z spoke up.

“I’m not going anywhere” she sighed in a voice filled with sarcasm as Farkas laughed lightly. She couldn’t begrudge him this little pleasure, not while she was at his mercy anyway.

“What was that?” they said in unison as the sudden sound of footsteps rung through the moss covered walls of the Cairn.

Six well armoured warriors surrounded Farkas, pushing him back towards the gate. He held his sword ready, his footsteps were hesitant however, he obviously knew he was cornered. Instantly Z’s rage flared but she could not act. She could easily shout the warriors down if only she could will herself to move. It took every ounce of her strength to draw breath.

Their weapons were drawn, held confidently in their numbers over one warrior. Z noticed their weapons however. Silver swords. So her father’s words may have been true after all, even in these dark days. Farkas was clearly outmatched as his back hit the gate. The silver hands gloated about his stupidity as he shook. There was a fear in him that tugged on Z’s heart.

She rested her hand barely on Farkas’ back, comforting him in his almost certain death. Even through their armour she knew he felt her comforting touch, taking strength form it he stiffened. It appeared he was thinking, plotting a way to escape. If he died Z would be trapped, she convinced herself that was her motivation to comfort Farkas. Then it hit her, she was next. There was nothing she could do about it. For all her powers she was suddenly helpless.

“Which one is that?” a woman warrior asked. Z couldn’t help but mentally call her a slut, the woman’s breast were almost bigger that Farkas’ head.

“It doesn’t matter. He wears that armour, he dies” an Orc spoke up. Again Z was insulting to the obviously dim witted being.

“Killing you will make for an excellent story” the warrior slut spoke again. Z felt Farkas tense up as he let his sword fall to the ground. The warriors laughed, the sound of his giant sword hitting the ground resonated within Z’s chest. 

/“No don’t give up Farkas”/ She pleaded silently in her mind, as if he could hear her he responded to their assailants.

“None of you will be alive to tell it” he growled. Z took a deep breath of relief. That was Farkas, too dumb to give in. But it seemed he wasn’t dumb as his skin fell away, turning into black mist as he grew and changed.

What stood in his place was a wolf, longer forearms with a hideous face. Fur covered just the way he was in a human form. Z raised her brow, so this was the beast out of its cage. Her father had been right all along. The legendary Circle of the Companions were Werewolves. What of the lower members however? Z doubted runts would be given such power, she was safe. Z would be the last to admit she had suspected his state as a wolf. What she had not counted on was her liking his form, despite its ugliness to some she found his crinkled nose and glowing eyes. Dare she feel it, adorable. 

“Kill it!” The Orc yelled as Farkas took one lope and swung, three warriors flew into the walls from the impact. Live strong warriors hit the wall. Broken and dead bodies hit the floor.

Slut ducked, bending her knees and almost drowning her face in her large boobs. Orc was sent flying at the second swing, arms and legs flailing as he screamed. As the warrior slut swung her blade Farkas used a huge uppercut and sent her flying. She groaned weakly as the old torches above pierced her heart. Her corpse did not fall but her blood trickled.

Farkas sprinted off, away from Z. It was a minute later that the gate rose and Farkas walked back in, tightening his gauntlet as he redressed himself. Z blinked in shock as he boldly walked up to her, concern in his eyes.

“I hope I didn’t scare ya” he said kindly. She could see the worry in him. Z took a stride forwards and smacked him on the chest.

“Scare me? You son of a bitch I thought you were dead! You could have told me you’re a puppy dog” Z couldn’t help her final taunt. Farkas shrugged, a strangely intelligent manner to his usually dumb motions.

“You forgot to mention you’re an assassin” he quipped. Z’s look of shock was well contained, yet Farkas noticed it.

“The prayer for the Drougar. You’re sneaky and you dress in black. Not to mention when you curse you say Sithis and Void a lot” Farkas shrugged. Z was proud of him for a moment, she stared with a bewildered smile on her face.

“You’re smarter than people give you credit for” Z gave the complement before she could think it over. It shocked her when Farkas missed the tone she had used and smiled.

“I’m smart, just very slow” he answered kindly. They looked at each other for a moment, then awkwardly around the room.

“I won’t tell if you don’t” Z finally offered.

“Done deal”


	13. Chapter 13 – Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z and Farkas battle to the Shard and face some terrors along the way.

Farkas walked the halls, appearing alone. He however knew he had an army at his heel. The shadowy woman was an Assassin; she had opened enough to reveal just how good she was. The news she had been involved with killing the decoy Emperor had left Farkas wheeling for several minutes. He need not even draw his blade, yet he did. He walked with it in one hand like a dagger, yet the weapon was as tall as Z, almost as tall as him. He didn’t need the blessing of any god, he didn’t need luck, because he had an Assassin.

 

Z smiled as she stalked the shadows a few feet from Farkas. He had no clue she was there, and yet walked confidently. She was touched by his trust in her as they systematically carved a bloody path through any Silver Hand warriors in their way. She admired how Farkas moved, huge, graceful yet slow swings filled with his bone breaking power. One lop and he could chop a man in half, the problem was in the time it took in his one swing Z could have killed him and be gone unscathed. It turned out none of the Silver Hand were as skilled.

She smirked as she watched him slice through a final warrior. The armour bulged in all the right places, clinging close to a tightly muscled rump. She smirked, oh yes; his armour most certainly fitted him well. She found herself mentally undressing the warrior she was working with, she had to undress people mentally to judge their weaknesses but with Farkas it was also a lust. She let her eyes drop to the metal guarding his groin. 

/“Would it be the first piece off or the last?/” she wondered to herself as he looked to her. She chuckled as she confirmed it would indeed vary. She slapped herself for the thoughts, quite literally, earning a shocked gaze from Farkas.

She allowed herself to move past him, ensuring she never touched but gave him a closer view of what she had to offer. Farkas seemed to miss her subtle gesture as he watched her, his eyes on her firm shoulders in such a respectful way Z wanted to tear her own hair out. Over time she had become more accustomed with quick romances, often lasting a few nights or minutes, depending on her partner. She always harboured her guilt well enough but with Farkas she found herself losing control. This was why she never chose attractive partners, they just lingered longer. They were just infectious. In fact, Z avoided closeness with anyone she remotely liked. It only complicated things. On those lines it was a wonder she had not slept with Vilkas.

“laas” she whispered the shout to see if her path was clear in the darkness.

She charged forwards as she saw two warriors ahead. Her daggers were drawn as they turned to face her onslaught a moment too late. The darkness of the Iron daggers she had relieved from a Drougar penetrated the skin of their throats perfectly. Z had leapt, landing in a kneeling position, before allowing her knee to hit the ground. The daggers bent as their tips hit the stone with Z’s full weight behind them. She pushed her hands out then drew them together, leaving large slashes in the throats of the doomed warriors, both elves. She grinned as their life flickered and died, this was something she had found addicting lately.

/“Oh yes. Killing humans is definitely more satisfying/” Her thoughts pleasured her with a darkness she had missed. The voice that comforted her was rare, apparently since a Listener had been named the voice had left. Z often wondered whom had spoken to her, yet she missed the soft touch. Was she crazy? She had no idea.

She tore the mutilated daggers free from her victim’s necks and turned to grin at Farkas. She was acutely aware of blood streaked across her face, running down over her lips and cheeks. Not one drop was hers. Her hands were also covered in blood, her boots in the midst of the blood pool from her newest kills. She threw the daggers carelessly aside with a silent scoff. She was proud of her work, and showing off somewhat. It felt amazing to kill in her way once more, not having to dance to the Companion’s tune.

“Nice work” Farkas approved with a curt nod.

“All work and no play, Farkas?” Z taunted lightly. She was enjoying herself too much in the killings. She enjoyed fair fighting, but when she had to bow to her opponents and not use all her skills it angered her. Not the fact she did not flaunt her talents, but the fact she was so restricted. So limited. Limited by limited imaginations in limited intelligence in limited minds. Men were so limited.

“What can I say? Why work if you’re not working hard?” he asked in his deep rumble. Z bit her lower lip to the point of blood as Farkas continued ahead. She smirked as she watched his rump once more with undisguised lust. 

/“Veezara, forgive me” /

“Why indeed?” Z practically purred to Farkas as she followed, a strut to her cat like step. She defiantly had plans for this poor wolf.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“Farkas! You have a sword! Use it you stupid dolt!” Z screamed desperately, kicking the Drougar approaching her into the burning body of the spider she had just incinerated with a fire shout. She lay on her back, three dead spiders in a nest. The cave was covered in web, the closer to the rock wall she drew the more web she had to contend with. Fortunately it was not bad here, but closer to where Farkas stood paralysed it was white with web. It was sickly yet held a certain beauty in the light.

The sound of the giant spider stalking towards Farkas was too much for Z to bear. She was not in love with the man but she certainly found him pleasing enough. Like hell was this spider going to take her distraction away without her at least testing him first.

She threw her body up onto her shoulders, her foot connecting with the side of the Drougar’s head. She threw all her strength into the motion, putting the hardened toes of her boot through the undead being’s skull. She winced as she pulled her toe free, slightly sickened by the flesh clinging to it for a moment.

She drew some daggers she had found, unsure of when she had found them worth her time. Each footstep to the ground was outpaced by her pounding heart, and a deep cry of outrage in her blood. Despite the boiling rage and intense panic Z found herself the assassin once more. Her motions were elegant, her thoughts surprisingly calm and collected.

She leapt furiously to clear the spider’s large legs and incredible height. With a muffled grunt she landed on the spider and held the dagger of her right hand poised. With a furious yell she drove it down into the spider’s flesh. It writhed. Z held a leg to balance herself, also trying to aid the creature’s pain to new heights by digging her fingers under the sensitive outer skeleton. She hated the spikey sensation with the coarse, bristly hairs that would leave her itching later. She spun the second dagger in her hand and drove it into one of the spider’s many eyes with a savage snarl. As the creature reared she rolled forwards and landed near Farkas. 

Her hands closed around the cold steel as she tugged him out of the lashing spider’s way. She literally sent him rolling into the cave they had entered from, or close enough that he could escape if need be. He watched in astounded admiration as Z turned to face the spider. She was terrifying.

“Come” Z taunted quietly as she stood before the spider, tensing and releasing her hands. She bent to pick the arrows of an unfortunate victim to the spider with a disgusted grunt. She moved with amazing grace as she rushed the spider, sliding under its aggravating fangs and driving a fistful of arrows into its sensitive underbelly.

She had it facing its lair, the webbed cave wall. It was large and slow to turn, but terrifying when it had you in its sights. She gazed around quickly, looking for a weapon to use. Her eyes glowed with malice as she closed her hand around the hilt of the Drougar’s sword with its head kicked in. She felt something flare as she held the blade; it was so light despite appearing bulky and well built.

Z ran at the wall, drawing the spider’s attention as she ran up it, somehow avoiding the sticky web in the process. She then flipped backwards, waiting until she was over the spider and falling to yell.

“Fus!” the shockwave that left her mouth forced the spider to wheel.

She ran, leaping up onto a knocked pole. She paused only for a moment, crouched like a hunter eyeing its prize despite the spiders size. She then screamed, a crazed smile on her face as she leapt, wielding the blade as it came alive with flames. She twisted the blade so it caught in the earth, pinning the writhing spider’s body down as Z struggled to hold it.

Farkas spun his claymore in his hands for a moment as he backed up, sizing a clear run at the spider. With a savage yell he charged, his armour clanking like a kitchen with each step. Every muscle screamed at him to turn the other way as he spotted the writhing creature’s fangs, almost as large as his forearm. Farkas ignored his fear and let a blood curling scream escape his lips as he leapt.

He landed heavily, his blade tearing through the spider’s body under Farkas’ strong blow. Farkas clamped his eyes and mouth shut as the blood sprayed up all over him, staining his entire front with oozy, vile liquid. 

Z pulled her blade free and rolled it in her hand, showing an evil dexterity as she drove it down once more, pinning the spider once again as its front half struggled to attack despite its inevitable death.

“Do not fear the void. Embrace it” Z whispered, then she twisted her blade once more. Again flames consumed the blade and the body beneath Z’s feet. The spider screamed, a sound that tore at Farkas’ heart, Z however was delighted and twisted the blade to draw another scream from the dying beast. When it died Z tore the blade free with a grunt, then flipped backwards off the spider’s back. Half way through her flip she twisted her body, landing facing towards the cave, spider to her back.

She wiped the blade off on a nearby rock, leaving some of the blood as she roamed to the Drougar. She fidgeted with the body to pull a leather strap free, then she bound the sword to her back as a weapon to keep. She ignored the blood running down her arms and back, it was not human so she could care less. She enjoyed killing, but humans were the best. Quick, easy and messy.

“Nice work Farkas” Z grinned as she returned to him. She ran her hand through his hair, confusing the man momentarily as he leaned against his blade, trying not to vomit. It amused Z how he could barely tolerate the spiders and yet he had cut one in half.

“Spider guts” she explained as he looked, holding up something she believed was indeed guts. Farkas’ face lost its colour, highlighting the facial hair. He covered his mouth with a steel covered hand, his eyes bulging for a moment.

“I’m going to be sick” he managed to squeak out finally. Z grinned, punching his shoulder gently in a kind gesture.

“Come on. We still need this shard, fragment, whatever” she bumbled. She let Farkas believe she was clueless as he grinned like a fool. He followed her after sheathing his sword, pausing only to shiver as he stepped over a much smaller spider’s body.

 

…………………………………………………………………

 

Z had bound her knuckles with armour she had found as she and Farkas backed into the whispering wall, one either side of a tomb like table. Z had already memorized the word, absorbed the power in a strange way. Things pointed to the fact she was Dragonborn, which flooded her senses with a undying rage. The Greybeards had played her as a fool, and she couldn’t remember who had taught her so much. Words she knew in her heart but not in her head, it was infuriating.

“I hope those fragments of metal are worth this trouble” Z growled as her back rested against Farkas’. The Drougar were stalking them, ten on each side. What worried Z was not even all the coffins had collapsed open.

“Humph” Farkas replied with a grunt, swinging the tip of his blade in warning at a Drougar that drew too close.

“We can’t fight in this” Z mumbled, her eyes flashing around the room. Farkas grunted.

“Too many?”

“Not enough space here. Numbers do not win a fight” Z replied coolly, jabbing her fist forwards as a Drougar ran at her. She winced as her fist hit incorrectly. It irritated her; Drougar could feel no pain so her teasing would not work. They felt no fear, she could not intimidate them. She could fight them, but they were not her favoured foe.

Farkas charged forwards against the Drougar flooding him, his blade held flat. He tensed every muscle as he pushed against them, feeling the hoard begin to faulter beneath his untypical attack. He braced his shoulder against their wider leader, his body on an angle as he continued to push. Eventually he pushed them over the stair, and then the open fighting began.

Farkas growled as he swept his blade in a wide half circle, gashing into five of the attackers with one blow. He then brought the blade whooshing down in a humongous overstrike. He effectively cut a second Drougar in half. He spun again, bringing the blade down on an angle, which tore through another two Drougar. With such a large blade he was tearing through them in one strike, their slowness only made the job that much easier for Farkas.

Z punched the Drougar in the gut, whacking with the hilt of her daggers. She used quick fox jabs up its chest, spinning the blades to penetrate the Drougar’s chest swiftly. She then held the daggers crossed in an X around the Drougar’s throat, before she wrenched her arms apart and sliced the Drougar’s throat apart.

She dropped to a knee as she slashed the legs from a second Drougar, driving her dagger into the bridge of its nose before she threw both daggers overhand into the skulls of two more Drougar. With that she drew the blade she had used on the spider, spinning in a savage circle and beheading a Drougar. Then she shoved her hand forwards over its neck, penetrating the chest of the next Drougar.

“YOL!” She cried into the remaining, bored of fighting with these creatures. Unsatisfied with the flames mutilating the moaning undead Z unleashed a few more strikes with her blade before she kicked one Drougar back and let a second cry tear through the hoard.

“FUS!”

Farkas brought the blade down for the final crushing blow. After a quick pant he raised his blade, only to feel it knocked from his hands with the weight of a full grown man. His eyes saw several Drougar flying across the room and bouncing from the walls, away from Z’s shout. He turned and bent to pick up his blade, only to hear a moan, then a whoosh, then another moan and finally a thud.

He looked up to see a Drougar with a dagger through its skull; he twisted to see Z still frozen in a throwing motion. He called out to her as a Drougar gripped her around the waist and lifted. 

Z grunted with the cold, dead arms around her. Her head was on the Drougar’s shoulder as she wrapped her legs around another assaulting Drougar. She twisted her body to disarm it then it happened. She felt a clamping around her right butt cheek, then heard a moaning snarl. With a yelp she twisted her body free of the grip and drove a dagger into her holder. 

She fell to the ground and rolled a few times, retrieving a stone in the process. She glared up at the Drougar with a very large helmet with incredible decorations. The nerve of this man, when it had been alive. Z stood up and brought her open hand across the creature’s cheek.

“You bit me on the arse!”

“FUS!” The Drougar used a shout on Z, throwing her backwards into a coffin. She groaned as she hit the ground with a loud thud and grunt. It was even worse as she heard a crash, then felt the crushing sensation on her back. She tried to rise but could only bend her neck and shoulders, which were not pinned.

She pinned furious eyes on the rude Drougar, letting herself feel a tinge of hatred for the undead thing. It was stalking her, it was going to kill her. She doubted this thing could make a clean kill like she could. The thought of dying to its hand sickened her, and frightened her. A rush of pure adrenaline flooded her system, allowing her to make a last minute move.

“FUS! To you too!” Z used her shout, then added the sentence as the creature flew back into its own coffin, hitting its head hard enough to kill a man. Unfortunately it did nothing more than anger the Drougar. After a moment of stunned pause the creature rose and hissed, walking towards Z. 

Its chest puffed up as the shout formed in its mouth. Z winced, knowing she could do nothing to defend. Her own shouts were weak, her throat still torn from her desperate cry. She coughed as she glared into the blue glowing eyes. She would not waver from death. The shout never came, as the Drougar opened its mouth a blade erupted out like a tongue. The large blade supported the Drougar’s flopping head before a silver boot pushed the creature off.

“Need a hand?” Farkas asked simply, sheathing his blade. Z was in no condition to reply as she reached desperately for the scale that had fallen from her armour. It was just out of her reach as she strained, every part of her body sobbing in pain for multiple reasons. Farkas gently pushed the scale into her shaking fingers as Z blacked out.

 

……………………………………………………………………

 

The feeling of water rushing around her woke Z with a gasp. She gazed up from the floor at Farkas who was holding his water flask open. Z blinked a few times, the darkness of night claiming her vision before the firelight marked the landscape enough for Z to see.

“That scale. What is it from?” Farkas asked simply, gesturing to Z’s still closed hand. Her knuckles were white from clinging to it. She slipped back into the pouch at her chest as she sighed.

“Veezara… a former lover” Z answered. There was a look of confusion and something else on Farkas’ face. Z assumed disgust, Argonians were frowned upon. She going to give him a piece of her mind but the scent of smoke reached her nose. She looked up to the sky, it was black with smoke, blazes of red and orange towards Whiterun.

“Dragon!” Z snapped, rising to her feet. 

The tower was on fire.


	14. Chapter 14 – Disappoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z and Farkas deal with a minor distraction on their way back home... A Dragon.

Z calmly tightened her gauntlets, the burning marks down her pale arms almost glowing as she saw the flaming ruins of the tower. The sky was black with smoke, bellows of flame scarring the imperfect serenity of destruction. The tower itself was badly ruined, half the roof and walls resting on the ground. A level once bellow was suddenly the new roof. The rock itself was black, burned and charred from the dragon’s assault.

Z’s fingers pulled on the second strap of her right gauntlet, tightening it beyond comfort yet to where it needed to be. She paused to remove her dagger hidden up her arm, fingers brushing down the twine bound hilt before she threw it calmly to her side. It landed in the earth blade down, on an angle that could easily be grabbed but also seen.

The dragons paw was as big as Z, the dragon itself almost as large as the tower. Its black and red paws hit the ground, flattening as it savagely swung its tail into a large piece of rubble. The ruined stone crumbled and fell into the screaming guards.

Z alternated hands, tightening her left gauntlet after abandoning the dagger in similar fashion to the first. Her boots crunched through the dry grass and burned wood of the structures added to the tower. Now it was ash beneath her boots, crushed beneath her heel.

The dragon spun and bellowed flames at another bunch of straggling guards. Z felt no sympathy to their screams as she raised her hands to her throat, fingers undoing the metal clasps calmly. Everything was paced for the dramatics, a subtle attempt to impress and intimidate the dragon.

Z froze between the piles of rubble larger than her, not making any move to conceal herself from the dragon’s gaze. The dragon made a rumbling noise as its paws straightened, neck arched and head glaring down at Z. Its nose flared black smoke with flaming ashes in the midst. Its eyes were also flaming, scales each the size of man’s hand. The smaller scales anyway, the larger scales were larger than a shield.

“I had forgotten how spirited mortals are” The dragon snarled. Z looked up with her eyes alone, almost rolling them back into her head. In the imposed darkness they seemed to shine, or draw the light from the many blazing flames.

Z let the cloak fall from her shoulders, the metal that held it to her falling along with it. The metal clanked as it hit the ground, bouncing in the ash against a small stone. The hood also fell from Z, another melodramatic motion on her behalf. The wind whispered, gathering up her hair on its assault to make it flow. The dragon had its smoke and flames, Z had her eyes and hair which glowed in the firelight.

“I will try not to disappoint” Z finally spoke in her quiet voice, a smile teasing to show on an otherwise void of emotion face.

 

……………………………………………………………………….

 

The fight was not going well Z realised as she rose from her knee. She winced at the sharp pain throughout her body, the difficulty to breathe. She felt the pain from her encounter in the Cairn, now from her flying lessons from a dragon. She couldn’t help chuckle as everyone fled in fear, hiding in the rubble as if it would help. There was no escape from a dragon, there was only a fight. Sacrifice was needed. Death was unavoidable. Victory was questionable. Z let a loud laugh out, followed by a wince at the realisation.

/“This isn’t the view of a hero”/

She stood, sword in hand as the dragon snarled at her. The sound shook the very earth, men cowered in its wake as Z walked slowly towards it, dagger tip pointing downwards with her wrist held back to point the blade further down. Blood dripped from its tip, which she now dragged through the ash. She let herself appear larger which went against all her training. She was trained to be subtle, frightening without the need to appear larger than she was physically. Her size was a strength. Now she needed to intimidate something bigger than her eight-and-one-damned house.

“Night Mother, guide my hand. Accept this kill for the honour of Sithis… and for the fallen” Z whispered her prayer softly, closing her eyes as the dragon began its march forwards. Z couldn’t help swallow nervously; this was not what she was trained for. Somehow however this felt right. The way her blood rushed as she smirked up at the dragon challenging her. It’s under throat was soft; if she could get the dragon to lower its head on an angle she could indeed kill it like any other living thing. Slit its throat. Z chuckled; assassinating a dragon would be quite the feat.

She met the dragon’s eye and slashed desperately. The dragon reared its head up high soon after Z’s blade tore a nose scale free; its roar was echoed with a bellow of blood red flames. Z felt the dirt shift beneath her toes from the pressure she had put into the shot, holding the weight in the balls of her feet. She took a step back and charged forwards. The dragon lowered its head, snapping for Z with an irritated growl. Z felt a pang of fear mixed with adrenaline as she leapt, her right hand closed around the dragon’s horn as she wielded the blade in her left. The swap had been made mid leap. She landed hard, slipping slightly. She dropped her blade with a squeal of surprise. Even trained as she was she could not have contained her squeal if she had wanted too. She held desperately to the nose of the dragon, fingers in its smoking nostril. The heat on her hands was very unpleasant, almost painfully so, yet Z refused to fall. There was no redeeming herself from a fall of this height.

“Farkas!” Z cried desperately as she saw him flanking the dragon, sword ready. The fool was going to get hurt if he kept this up. He was trying to help her but all he did was annoy the dragon beyond mortally possible. 

“Your pet is irritating” the dragon snarled as it swung its tail into Farkas. Farkas was able to recover from the stagger with a swish of his blade.

Z felt the dragon’s lips moving against her belly, the warmth of the dragon’s breath and gentleness of the creature’s movements shocked her. It was not intentional, Z knew that. It only made the dragon more human. Z could kill humans.

“Finally, we agree on something” Z rolled her eyes sarcastically, her hold never loosening but it lost some of its maliciousness. She wished to kill this dragon but not torture. It had not wronged her in any way; it simply acted as it must. Just as she did. The kinship she felt was heart wrenching. Z felt sympathy, which she shook off with a growl. Of all the things she had to feel close to it just /had/ to be a dragon. 

/“A dragon that is trying to kill me and destroy Whiterun”/ Z’s thoughts added to the logic and annoyance of her emotions. She hated emotions, yet when she could not feel she wanted nothing more than to feel something. Someone had a sense of humour to create such irksome things as emotions.

The dragon’s roar of pain was enough to shock Z out of her deep thoughts. It amused her how she could find herself deep in thought while dangling from a dragon’s nose like dry snot. 

The dragon shook its head in pain, breathing short bursts of flame as Z swung and held desperately. She did not want to get cooked, or get another flying lesson. The dragon’s scales bent beneath her hands, just as a human’s nostrils bend to the softest touch so could a dragons. Z felt scales digging into her palms through her armour as she clung for dear life. It was not enough. With a scream of pain Z was thrown from the dragon’s nose, high in the air towards the tower. 

She groaned as she hit the stone hard. Her whole body felt broken as she began to fall. With a desperate “whoa” scream, Z began grasping for something to break her fall. She already knew this was going to hurt. She managed to catch the window ledge briefly, before the rock crumbled beneath her grasp. She turned so she was falling face down, panic embraced her as her vision blurred, the air rushing into her eyes causing her to tear. She let out a shout, feeling the entire word coursing through her despite she knew not what she shouted. Time slowed, giving Z a chance to observe everything despite she fell at the same speed. The environment change was all she needed. She got a grip on a flag and held firm. It broke her fall, dragging her to a halt before it too betrayed her. The stone rubble smacked Z’s head and shoulders as she fell to the heaped rubble beneath with a loud grunt.

Her vision was blurry; bits of rubble had caught in her eyelashes, causing little dots of black to fill her vision with thin, darker shadows. Her nose felt sticky, down the right side, yet it was not coming from her nostrils, rather down her bridge, around her nostril and onto her upper lip. Every bone protested as she pushed herself to a kneeling position, spitting out a shattered tooth after a moment of desperate, weak coughing. Her palms ached worse than her bones, stung bitterly in chunks. She lifted a hand to stare down at her gashed palms, now filled with gravel from her fall. She winced at the red coating rushing down her arms, outside and in. She twisted her arm over to see her gauntlet torn, feeling blood down her arms she looked to the other. It was torn, revealing the partial lines of her magic vows through the torn leather. The line seemed to shine silver among the red, completely untouched by her blood. It unnerved her.

She turned her head up to see the dragon approaching. Her vision played between darkness and light, almost like a torch drawing closer then further away in a slow pace as waves would beat against the shore, save there was no blaze of orange and darkness surrounding. It was a dragon and a battle field.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………  
Years ago

 

She glared into the red gems that were Brand’s eyes. He was a handsome elf, but not to Z’s taste. He worshipped her like a master, his hero, yet there was no romantic love in his gaze. Z appreciated a friend who cared, been able to look a man in the eyes without finding lust gazing back at her. The guilt ate at her however; she was forcing her friend to doom her. He held his dagger to her outer arm with a serious frown, the patch under his lower lip was crinkled as his lines shone like flaming amber against his skin. The contrast looked better than it sounded.

“I do not wish to do this. Be sure. It cannot be undone, or broken by any mortal” Brand questioned in his gruff tone. The voice he used was undisguised disgust yet deep concern. Z understood every emotion on his voice as she offered her left hand and curled all her fingers but the middle. The bone stood out under her skin softly, showing the trail she wished marked.

Brand shook his head at her gesture to begin.

“I must hear you speak” he whispered. it was his hope she would turn away, be unable to utter the words he never wanted to hear.

“Begin”

 

………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Z tore her gaze away from the healed line with a silent snarl. She would look the dragon in the eye if she was to be killed by its paw. She glared into the dragons eyes, her own were flaming in challenge. She tried to push herself to her feet, she refused to die kneeling, but the dragon simply dropped its paw with an emphasised stomp. The slight shake in the rubble dropped Z back to her hands and knees. The dragon snarled in victory as it arched its neck to stare down at Z. She had never imagined her death like this. She refused to accept it as she began to gather herself for a final shout. 

“Excuse me?” a deep rumble asked. The dragon ignored the words and continued snarling.

“Hey!” Farkas’ gruff voice came, stunning the dragon. It turned to Farkas in shock, meeting the steel knuckles as Farkas threw his whole body into a single punch that moved the dragon in shock.

The scrambling survivors stopped. The dragon stopped. Farkas stopped. Everything stopped.

Farkas stood huffing furiously, his jaw clenched and fists gathered. The dragon itself was so unsure of what to do with the mortal it froze with its eyes visibly wide. The opportunity was there for a final strike but Z herself could not shake her shock. Farkas had just punched a dragon. He had just punched a dragon for not listening to him. The situation was ludicrous.

Z managed to shake herself free and drove her dagger into the dragon’s jaw. It reared back and roared in pain, backing up to the other side of the rubble. It gathered a large stone in its paw and snarled; hurling the human sized stone at Z like it was a pebble. Farkas looked mortified that he had been ignored, and afraid of the stone.

“Fus Ro Dah!” Z unleashed her shout into the rock with everything she had. The rock flew away, straight into the dragon’s chest. The roar and thud of the dragon falling shocked all but Z, who with Farkas’ help managed to find her feet.

She stumbled to her sword, which had landed point down in the earth and stood ready for her hand. She paused, running two fingers through the blood of the dragon. She slowly wiped her fingers across the bridge of her nose, marking herself as a warrior in blood. She winced as her blood mixed with the dragons, burning more painfully than anything Z had experienced. Strangely she felt so empowered her wounds meant nothing. She tore the blade free and continued her determined march to the top of a tall pile of rubble.

She stared down at the dragon, which was pinned beneath the huge boulder that had barely penetrated its flesh. It looked so weak; suddenly it was just another kill. It was prey for the hunter, trapped and ready to be served. 

“Foolish mortal! You know nothing!” The dragon roared, lifting its head before it flopped back with a frustrated, pained growl. Z felt the calm claim her as she stared down at the creature. She was just returning it to its slumber; she was ending its pain.

“Do not fear the void. Embrace it” she whispered the line she had so many times with new found conviction. It was genuine advice, not a death line. This dragon need not fear death, but embrace its end with honour.

“Dovahkiin! NO!” The dragon roared. Z could taste the dragon’s fear as she raised her hands above her head, holding the blade reversed in her hands.

/“When you see the darkness of the void do not be afraid to leap. It is then you shall see if you can truly fly”/ The cryptic words came from her old, comforting voice. With that Z leapt, silent as the grave.

Her knees bent and her thighs remained straight. The flames burned beneath her as she cleared them to draw closer to the dragon. Her hair flew, her eyes burned until her blade landed directly through the dragons eye.

What happened next almost dropped Z to her knees.

The pain was beyond anything Z had experienced. Images and memories of a time before Babette flashed into her mind. Simple slaves, cowering mortals. The skies in all their glory. A war. A great defeat by magics that were pure fear. They should not be. It was wrong. Blackness. Scales of pure, razor sharp darkness, a roar of fury’s fire. Death itself. Time. All wrong. A name. Alduin.

Then words. Voices.

/“She has awoken. The Greybeards will not hold her”/

/“She cannot kill the others”/

/“She will lead them”/

/“Or the world shall fall”/

/“Cheese for everyone!”/

 

A name. One name that brought rage to Z’s gut.

Alduin.

 

…………………………………………………………………

 

Next she remembered was standing in a circle. Skjor, Aela, Farkas, Vilkas and Kodlak were there holding torches in the darkness. Their armour shone, they were well groomed save Farkas who was still blood covered.

“Brothers and sisters of the Circle. Today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor. Who will speak for her?” Kodlak asked. Z looked around the circle, challenging but not seeing what others believed she saw. Something had changed in her world. One name consumed her thoughts, struggling to remember.

“I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us” Farkas spoke, his voice defending and proud. Z smiled softly, suddenly touched by his gesture now she understood it. She banished the expression as soon as it appeared. 

Farkas stared at her, his gaze telling. Z couldn’t help bow her head and blush slightly, a gesture that was not lost upon the Circle, although they believed the reason different. She was an assassin, Farkas knew this and yet he still vowed for her as a warrior to his entire family. He stood, holding her in regard Z felt she had not earned. Strangely this bothered her. Damn him and his honourable emotions, they must have rubbed off on her somehow.

“Would you raise your shield in her defense?” Kodlak asked.

“I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us” Farkas’ reply was genuine. Z felt secure, trusting even of this wolf. He could watch her back any day; she actually believed he was trustworthy unlike so many who had stabbed when they vowed to defend. 

“And would you raise your sword in her honour?” Kodlak continued on.

“It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes” Farkas growled, gesturing to his blood stained face as Z smiled openly, bowing her head in genuine respect to Farkas momentarily before she once more became stone.

“And would you raise a mug in her name?”

“I would lead the song of triumph as the mead hall reveled in her stories” Farkas almost chuckled as he gazed to Z again. He silently was telling stories of her assassinations. Z also grinned, sharing in the small secret with eager glee. Again. Farkas’ fault. It had to be.

“Then the judgement of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that has united the Companions since the days of distant green summers. Le it beat with ours, that the mountains might echo and our enemies tremble at the call” Kodlak spoke proudly. Z felt her own chest warm with the feeling of acceptance. They knew so little about her. This was not right.

“It shall be so” the circle spoke, Farkas and Aela’s voices the loudest. They silently walked to her and placed gentle hands on her shoulders as Kodlak stared at her, his gaze ordering she come to him. Their gestures were not lost as Z smiled to each of them, then strode to the old man, the old wolf, summoning her silently.

“Well girl, you’re on of us now. I trust you won’t disappoint”


	15. Chapter 15 – The Joining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z finally joins the pack yet upon her initiation hunt she discovers that she has seen the enemy before... In another life.

Months had passed since the night Z had fully joined the Companions. Things had gone well; she had even resumed some of her assassinations. She had naturally stayed close to Farkas, keeping him as a shield against the other members of the Circle. He knew her dark secret; he was someone safe for her to be around. She never felt safe, but he made the dream seem more real. She did not ignore her duty to the Dark Brotherhood, in fact she abused her role as a Companion to keep them informed. This was also where Farkas came into play, she could wield him against the Circle if need be and defend herself. She never expected the single pang of guilt she got from pretending to be closer to Farkas than she was. She liked the man well enough, but she led him to believe he was a very close friend. Still, the Circle was growing suspicious of her and she needed a bigger advantage.

She had been subtly flirting with Farkas, knowing that if he was in love with her he would act a greater protector. The idea of him was not one Z found appalling as usual with her manners, but she found him lacking any knowledge. Her flirtations would have landed her the Jarl should she have wished, but nothing she did could even make Farkas turn his head in anything more than shock or respect. He was goddamn impossible.

/“Sithis take that stupid man!”/

“Skjor is looking for you” Aela’s voice broke her silent thought. She turned to Aela slowly, taking the sight of the fine woman in slowly. Nothing was out of place, she also seemed to glow. It was obvious why in her messier than usual hair. Z felt a smile tease to show as she asked.

“What is it you see in him?” Z couldn’t help ask. After all this time she never had asked Aela what her relationship was. It bothered her that she took such an interest, but it was her job to know. Lately she had been keeping contracts of Skjor, and a few off Aela. She refused to allow harm to come to them, which again confused her.

“What you don’t” Aela replied pointedly, lowering her eyes down Z in a very suggestive manner. Z smirked. She knew Skjor’s top half was pleasing enough when out of the armour, due to the fact she had walked in on the early stages of his strip tease for Aela. The situation had been calm, among rational adults. Something Z now found amusing. The fact she had walked in on them had only intensified the mood in Aela. That woman had no embarrassment of her body what so ever. Much to Z’s well concealed embarrassment at the time.

“I asked what you see in him, not /OF/ him. I know you would prefer me on that note. Usually” Z couldn’t help jest at the redhead. There was no secret she loved women in her bed, and she found men rather disappointing. Something made Skjor the exception though, Z couldn’t understand. Aela’s gaze alone told her that. Z shook her head and walked off to find Skjor, unaware of Aela’s lingering gaze.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“She will be here soon, Aela” Skjor muttered, ignoring the woman in his arms with great difficulty. Aela’s warm breath teased his ear as she leaned in and whispered some very suggestive things that Z’s fine hearing couldn’t pick up from her hiding place. She had watched the lovers for some time now, counting the minutes they resisted each other. She was shocked to find them both holding back; obviously whatever was to happen was very important.

“Indeed I shall be” Z replied, walking from the corner of the building into the light. The two humans broke their fleeting embrace with slightly pained expressions. It seemed they had not smelt her. It was obvious they were both Werewolves, they were after all, both members of the Circle.

“Are you prepared?” Aela asked simply. She had such a simple way with words that was almost endearing to Z. You need not worry with secrets with Aela for she always let you know where you stood with her. Something Z found refreshing.

“I’m ready for whatever test you have inside” Z found herself replying in a bold tone. Skjor looked disapproving for a moment before he spoke.  
“This is not a test, New Blood, it is a gift” he corrected. Z’s heart should have leapt in terror or thrill, but she felt nothing but acceptance. She was not going to cower from this like many would. It would be natural, for her Arnbjorn had often said so. He had refused to turn her though, claiming the Underforge was the best place to be turned in all of Skyrim.

The Underforge itself was large, and most certainly not a forge in the typical sense. It was obviously named for the Skyforge above. It was rock, with a human made floor and natural cave appearing walls. Light streamed in through some head sized holes in the far wall, undoubtedly facing away from the city due to the natural smell in the room. What caught Z’s attention was the basin in the middle, made of stone. Light shone above it, almost bouncing into it or maybe from it. 

The next thing that caught her attention was the growling in the shadows. Her eyes connected with the Werewolf’s, unafraid and challenging. No one took her challenge as she strode in upon a touch on her shoulder.

“Farkas” she nodded to the wolf, who appeared shocked. She held no fear as she walked in, watching Farkas expectantly. The wolf walked to the alter, raising a paw into Skjor’s waiting hand.

Wordlessly Skjor slashed the wolf Farkas down his arm, slowly draining his blood into the basin. Z stood, watching with only a hint of concern for Farkas. She watched the basin slowly fill from the trickling wound. Eventually Farkas growled and pulled his arm back. He dropped to all fours and walked behind Z, who was used to Werewolves. The Companions however did not know this and admired her casual way with the Wolf.

“I’m glad you recognised Farkas, even in this form. He has agreed to be your Forebare” Skjor paused, looking to Z who had stepped forwards to the basin already. Somehow she knew how to act, suddenly found herself looking forwards to becoming a Werewolf. She managed to contain her urges long enough to hear Skjor and Aela out. Farkas also added little barks, which made her smile and chuckle. He gave her a plaintive look, the others acted as if they understood his words. Again a Werewolf thing. Soon she would understand as well.

“Are you ready to join with the Beastblood?” Skjor finally asked. 

Z nodded, lowering her hand into the blood and cupping it in her palm. She raised it to her lips and drank. She was shocked with how thick it was, clearly metallic but it was also sweet in a strange way. The taste was quite pleasant, but the burning down her throat and body as she continued to scoop and drink was one of the worst experiences she had ever had the horror of experiencing.

She fell to her knees the moment the blood was done. Desperatly she tore her breastplate off, unashamed to be in her underwear as she silently screamed. Her hands clawed at her neck and collar bone, trying to subdue the pain coursing through her body. The Circle watched as she struggled, then she felt it. Something changed. A savage need. A longing to hunt and run. Her senses enhanced, as was her pain. Somehow it was bearable now, for this moment.

“Welcome to the pack, sister” Aela spoke clearly before Z felt her mind rush away, leaving her with no memory or conscious thought throughout her change.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

She woke in the grass, shivering from the cold water on her naked chest. She flinched as she realised a warm weight pinned her chest and front into the grass, hands held her wrists above her head. She writhed, pushing up with her shoulders, trying to force the weight off her. She was rewarded by a groan as her elbow flew into a nose. She knew it hadn’t broken but the feeling of blood dripping onto her flesh rewarded her.

“Stay still” Farkas ordered. Z flew into a panic and rage, throwing her head back into his and bolting off into the wilds, on all fours.

 

………………………………………………………….

 

She opened her eyes slowly, asleep on her belly on some stone covered with grass. Her body was curled upwards, knees bent around the rock her arms embraced. She blinked a few times as a wisp of snow was blown into her face, across her naked shoulder and through her hair. The sweet scent of flowers touched her nose, the taste of fresh air before rain or snow flicked on her tongue.

Her hair brushed down over her shoulders as she raised her head quickly. She made the action look elegant somehow, not the sheer fright she was experiencing deep down in her emotional vault. Her eyes settled on Aela, who was standing with an expecting look on her face. 

“Good. You’re awake. I was starting to think you might never come back” Aela started in her simple, conversational tone. Her eyes were penetrating though, considering silently as Z began to rise. She was not ashamed of standing naked, Aela was a woman and she had undoubtedly seen other women naked before. The lines down her arms drew Aela’s attention, which Z found quite uncomfortable.

“Yours was not an easy transformation but you’re still alive. So, congratulations” Aela finished. Her grin became predatory and wild as she started down a new road of discussion. One that made Z’s blood boil.

“We even have a celebration planned for you. There’s a pack of Werewolf hunters camped nearby, the Silver Hand. From what Farkas tells me you’ve met them before, in the Cairn. We are going to kill them all. Skjor is already scouting a little ahead” Aela paused, throwing Z a pack. Z looked and nodded, beginning to pull on her armor with disguised glee. She did not relish been naked, especially meeting Skjor.

She had quickly pulled on the armor she had been offered. It was steel, heavy and uncomfortable on her body. Aela looked amused as she watched Z writhe and wince at each clank her steel made. Anything would be better than this for a rouge fighter, instead Z was reduced to storming her enemies sounding dreadfully like a kitchen.

She followed Aela slowly, trying to make her steps silent. It seemed to amuse Skjor as they met with the man. Z stepped back as Aela and he shared a quick kiss and a few whispers.

“I’ll go ahead. Make sure she keeps her head” Skjor finally commanded. Aela gave him a concerned look.

“Don’t…” Aela trailed off, Skjor gently held her chin as he stared into her eyes.

“It will be fine, Aela” he whispered. his gesture was so soft and gentle as he stared lovingly into Aela’s eyes. Z felt the familiar pain as she averted her eyes from the two. It felt wrong to watch them. The worry in Aela was extraordinarily touching.

“I love you. Be careful” Aela whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek softly even as he began to move away, hand still wrapped around hers.

“No promises” he grinned, then jogged off in human form.

 

…………………………………………………………………..

 

Z ran along the wooden rails, slashing her blade through the final enemy. Running in steel was hard; Aela’s scrutinising gaze was harder. Z had become furious with the armour she wore and unleashed her attacks on the enemy in her usual, furious style of flurries and ducks. Aela had noticed her style, and naturally questions had arisen. Z had simply stripped her armour off and changed into mismatching leather pieces that were quieter. Aela chose to quit questioning upon one of Z’s answers.

“You don’t want to know”

………………………………………………………

 

Inside she felt an instant shot of rage. She came face to face with a Werewolf head on a spike, a spear to be exact. Its eyes were still open, slowly rotting and stinking. Especially to Z’s suddenly sensitive nose. The new senses intrigued her, especially hearing Aela’s heart beat a metre away. It was faint, fast and angry. She suspected the faintness was due to the distance between her and Aela.

“They must have locked the place down after Skjor rushed in. You can taste the fear” Aela sounded excited by her last sentence. Her eyes however were on the Werewolf head, lying under the pull chain to open the gate. Z strode forwards, hating the rotten flesh beneath her hands as she placed her palm on the snout and closed the eyes as best she could. She then yanked the chain, and continued inside wordlessly. Her gesture was not lost upon Aela.

They walked down some halls until laughter reached Z’s ears. She felt them twitch in response, something that amused her. The sensation of control in her ears that hadn’t been there before was intoxicating in a strange way. Unfortunately she also noticed the itch more now. She flicked her ear slightly as she ran forwards, hearing a crude comment she froze. Her blood ran so cold with fury it burned.

“Werewolf or not, a bitch will scream for…” The comment was never finished as Z rushed forwards with an enraged snarl. She held the man with her left and as she straddled his belly, driving her right fist into his nose repeatedly. Unsatisfied with her work she reached to the ale mug his companion had been drinking from before Aela put an arrow through his throat, and smashed it into the man’s face. She could tell he was dead from her beating but still drove a few more shots home. Her rage did not subside.

She stood, averting her eyes from the door the man had walked through. A Werewolf hung by one paw which was nailed into the wall. Its face was one of pain, its eyes almost begging for the end. The image was enough to make Z sick. A female Werewolf. The crude comment. The expression in her eyes. It was enough to make Z’s blood boil in rage, her fists clench as Aela also averted her gaze, simular rage in her blood despite her calm tone.

“There’s a dead one in there, isn’t there?” She asked simply. Z was unable to voice the words, she just nodded once. Z kept her teeth together, almost painfully so as she kicked the body she stood around and took a step away from the body.

“No one we know by the smell of it. Poor girl. Some can’t separate the wolf from themselves. They go mad” Aela explained. Z raised her eyes calmly; the rage had subsided into a cold rage. It was worse than explosive anger, it was calculated torture to whomever it was directed at. Z directed her gaze back to the Werewolf body, taking in every detail with the eyes of an Assassin. She instantly raised a spare bow and arrow onto her back, along with gathering all the daggers.

She didn’t speak, instead she moved silently towards the next batch of chatter she heard. These bastards would fare no better than any other who had been foolish enough to cross her blade.

 

……………………………………………………………………

“There’s nothing we can do for them now” Aela sighed sadly. The Werewolves in the cages were tortured and savage. Beyond care or aid. Z looked. The dread calm claimed her body and reflected on her face as she gazed into the desperate eyes of one of the creatures. She simply raised the bow, pulled the string back with an arrow. After three heartbeats she released, thus ending the Wolf’s life. There was nothing she could do for them now but offer them a quick death.

………………………………………………………………….

 

“Their leader is a tricky one. They call him “The Skinner” I don’t need to explain why” Aela warned as they reached a door. Z was still cold, she had remained silent since she had seen the first dead wolf. The occasional word that escaped her lips were barley auditable. It was beginning to creep Aela out.

Z froze as she opened the door. It was a fort ruin, with vines growing down the pillars. She saw the raised area, with a dead Werewolf on an alter further to the back. She smelt fresh blood as she stared into the eyes of eight men. The night danced over her eyes as she regarded the shocked men, her eyes settling on the largest one in the best looking armour. She couldn’t shake a sense of familiarity. 

The first man rushed her, blade drawn. Z wasted no time in drawing her own dagger, which was heavy and unbalanced in her hand. She saw Aela sneaking into the shadows after other warriors; she also saw the shock that Z had only drawn a dagger. Z hated the boots she wore; they were worn in the balls of her feet so she felt the rock as she balanced her weight and waited. When the man reached her she simply shoved her blade across her body to deflect his from his hand. Her own blade flew, much to her annoyance. She simply caught the man by the throat and spun him around to face the second charging man, who had his blade outstretched. Z ducked as she held the first up, for his throat to be lacerated by the second’s blade. As she rose she pushed the dead man’s arm forwards, throwing his fist into the gut of the second who fell forwards with a groan. Z thoughtlessly shoved her dagger into the second’s back and flipped over the mess with ease. She had by then drawn two more daggers, which she threw at one man. The daggers both buried themselves in his chest. Z rolled forwards, ignoring an arrow fired at her before she threw a fireball from her hand into the woman archer’s stomach. The bow fell into Z’s waiting hand as she spun around the mess and drew an arrow. By the time her spin was finished she had an arrow ready to fly. She fired it at the head of another man. It landed in his chest, still fatal but enough to irritate Z. She spun, ducking another blow as she smashed the bow around the head of another man in her way. She drew his sword, spun it in her hands then drove it backwards into the man she had missed.

The room fell silent as Z stood, the warriors in her way discarded like cheap farmers, not like the trained warriors they were. She had blood down her fingers now, and a blade that she was comfortable enough with in her hands. The Skinner drew his claymore as he stood over Z, his height and strength an advantage and disadvantage at the same time. Z simply flicked her wrist, rolling the blade in an intimidating pattern as she waited. The Skinner was not patient, to Z’s amusement.

He came pounding forwards, charging with blade extended. Z slapped it aside and spun, feeling her back roll over his armour as she used her elbow to push him forwards, causing him to stumble. He didn’t pause as he swung backwards, almost cutting Z who was forced to leap backwards. She looked annoyed as she raised her blade, ready to take the man on as a Warrior, not as an Assassin.

He brought his blade down with an overhead strike, Z attempted to block and was knocked backwards. Unwilling to be disheartened she ducked his next swing for her head and kicked his hand, causing it to fly back and hit him in the face. Without pause she launched forwards, pulling his helmet free as she ducked a blow from his fist. She then pushed him backwards, furious and unable to summon her ability to shout.

She stared into the man’s eyes, suddenly furious. She knew this man by sight, he was one of the guests at the Emperors diner party. Where this had come to light. Where it all fell apart.

“You…” she growled, unable to contain the fury in her eyes as her hands flamed. She was never one for magic despite her small ability, but now it was an uncontrollable force within her. Her skin felt cold, despite the flames on her hands and melting the blade she had let fall.

“I’ve seen you” The Skinner sounded confused, noticing the fury in the woman before him.

“Where?” he asked finally. Z glared, hearing footsteps of warriors coming to aid their leader. She held back the shout long enough to answer.

“The Emperor’s Decoy”


	16. Chapter 16 – Forwards Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are tense after Skjor's death and Aela's wrath is as icy as Windhelms Docks. Z also receives a letter from a "friend" and decides she has had enough of the bullshit.

Z leapt in the air as he charged, somehow wrapping her legs around the warrior. She let her upper half bend backwards as she clung with her legs, as soon as her palms hit the cold, slimy stone she threw herself into a roll, releasing the man and sending him flying. She stood up from her crouch, dusting her hands off on her side before throwing her dagger into the face of The Skinner. She was right behind her dagger, gripping it and twisting the blade in the man’s eye socket. She thrust her other dagger into his matching eye and twisted, then tweaking the blades on an angle to be sure. With a growl she yanked her daggers free and gripped the man’s large sword. She laid it against his neck and pushed, severing his head in one clean stroke.

“We should do this more often” Z approved as she turned to Aela, grinning furiously. The smile fell from her face as she saw Aela standing in the middle of the raised area. Her face was deathly pale, her mouth hanging open and her brows falling over wide eyes. Z saw her chest heave before she managed to whisper.

“The bastards” her tone was so weak and desperate Z couldn’t help smile. Aela brought to her knees, so weak and helpless. In another time Z would have enjoyed the sight of the woman so broken, but now it was just ash in her mouth. She was almost indifferent.

“Somehow they managed to kill Skjor. He was one of the strongest we had, but numbers can overwhelm. He should not have come without a Shield-Brother” Aela looked broken for a moment later before seething rage filled her face. Her eyes flashed to one of the men stabbed in the back, who was crawling along the ground.

Wordlessly Aela walked to him and pressed an arrow into the wound. With a savage smile she brought her foot down on the arrow, pushing it partly in before the shaft splintered beneath the pressure. The man screamed before Aela drew her bow and levelled a second arrow at his throat. With a slight twang of the string she released an arrow through his throat with a week shot, it was not an instantly fatal strike but it was fatal. The man gargled as Aela stood on him, scouting the area with her eyes for more survivors.

“Get out of here! I’m going to make sure we killed ALL of them, and see what information can be gained from the bodies” Aela ordered, stepping from the man’s back as she pulled the arrow from his throat. It was somehow unharmed, and ready for use again. Z nodded approvingly.

“Orders?” she asked calmly. She knew Aela would be all about death now, screw honour, and Z wanted in on the action. The older woman looked surprised for a moment before she smiled, a smile Z had once seen on Babette. It warmed her heart to find kindred souls among the Companions.

“You and I have work to do, Z. The Silver Hand will tremble at our sight” Aela vowed, Z silently left, watching Aela proceed to the next possible survivor. Z had rarely felt sorry for anyone but she pitied those who crossed Aela in this state. Almost as she pitied anyone who crossed her.

 

……………………………………………………………………………….

 

The news of Skjor’s fall brought a darkness over the hall. Many of the newest members fled, leaving Z as the newest Circle Member and one of the only warriors to stick around. Ria had stayed also, but she had a long way to go in her skills before she was ready to become a full member. The once rowdy laughter was now ushered with a sorrow in one’s heart. Farkas mourned, Vilkas even mourned which was quite the sight. There were also whispers of Aela’s fury. The towns folk had become nervous of the woman as she scowled and stormed back into the halls a month later.

“We still have work” Aela grunted to Z before she stormed beneath the main hall to her room, still coated in blood and muck. Z had not waited twenty seconds to follow Aela in concern. It was something Z hated, concern. She had not worried for Aela’s life, rather her mental state. When she reached the door she realised that Aela did not want to be disturbed, and disheartened by the fact she began to return to the hall. Along the way her eyes found Farkas, who was also storming down the hall towards Aela’s quarters.

“She does not wish to be disturbed” Z informed quietly. She had extended her hand to catch his shoulder but the warrior had leapt aside with a startled gasp. It was amusing to hear the high pitched breath from the large man, naturally Z began to plot.

“Afraid of me are you?” Z taunted gently breathing that seductive way she used so often. She rested her back against the wall; fingers locked behind her head as she rested it back, her hands against the cold stone. She gave him her wide eyed look, fully abusing her long lashes with the best innocent look on her face.

Farkas stared at her with his even gaze and destructively beautiful moonlit eyes, his expression unchanged. He was so stupid. He never picked up on what Z was hinting, he was worse than a tease. He was a nightmare man. Z could wrap a smart man around her with a whisper and a swing of her hips, but Farkas didn’t even notice. This drove Z even crazier than pretending to love a man to kill him, or when she saw a female wood elf glare at her. What did she have to do to get his attention?

Z tilted her head, resting her heel slightly up the wall with a bent knee. She had the manner of complete casualness while showing herself in the light of beauty. She prayed the shadows completed her look as she smiled, dimples hidden by the darkness. Farkas’ jaw dropped open slightly, just before his lips came back together softly. 

/“Yes! A reaction!”/ Z’s thoughts cheered. She cursed herself; she had to keep reminding herself to play Farkas, not fall for him. It was so easy to like him, even though she tried to eat his head off and snapped. Even though she challenged him, trying to show that she was the top wolf. She had to stop thinking of him as a person and more as a tool. Still it was hard with such a kind-hearted, honest, if not incredibly dumb yet attractive man. 

Farkas took a huge stride into her, his body suddenly pinning her uncomfortably. Z gasped despite herself, he was bigger than she thought. He leaned down with a snarl, an animalistic snarl. It wasn’t romance as he pressed his forehead into hers, teeth bared. Z inhaled sharply, this close his face was still godlike in its simplicity; his breath was tinged with a sweet metallic smell, blood, Z assumed.

“No” he growled deeply, and then leaned back. He left Z’s breathing ragged, he left her unsatisfied.

/“Weeks of planning for that?”/ Z’s thoughts raged.

“No?” Z snarled back, suddenly allowing rage to control her.

“That’s all I get? No! Farkas you’re thick!” Z screamed loudly, Farkas turned to her and pinned her again. This time it was not pleasant as Z screamed quickly in shock, panting heavily as Farkas huffed in her face.

“Enough. Say what you have to say and leave me be” Farkas was furious. Z suddenly regained her control, staring down his sculptured cheek as the idea formed in her head.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” She asked with the idea in her mind, she arched into him suggestively. The wolf was raging in his presence. She hated herself for it, but at the same time loved it. Farkas seemed to notice because his whole body stiffened, his hands began loosening his grip on her wrists. It was enough.

“Speak” He ordered, somehow his breathing became heavy for a different reason. The sudden change in his eyes made Z catch her breath. They were suddenly dark and hungry, every inch as savage as the wolf within. Z liked savage.

“Hunting” she said simply. She began laughing as she escaped his grip and proceeded to walk down the hall with a seductive swing to her hips. She felt Farkas’ eyes burning as he froze. The wolf could not resist Z’s challenge.

“On the next full moon” Farkas called out. Z turned, giving him a polite nod of acceptance before she continued on her way. Something was not right, almost calling her to its source. She followed the tug, what else could she do?

…………………………………………………………………………………….

 

She stood in the ruin, furious, as always when she did a stupid quest. The insufferable Greybeards had demanded she go retrieve a Horn for them, to prove her worth. She found herself obeying the command bitterly. She had fought through traps, Drougar and spiders, with a giant spider as the main attraction and all she found was a simple note.

 

Dragonborn  
I need to speak to you, Urgently  
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn at Riverwood, and I’ll meet you  
A friend

 

Z stared down at the note, written on old paper and left for her to discover. She winced as she bit her lip to the point of blood. She didn’t know what was worse, the Greybeards of this “friend” that had made her trip all for nothing.

Either way, this “friend” was going to pay dearly for screwing around with Z’s precious time. Followed by the Greybeards.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Z stepped into the inn, her nose screwed up in disgust. Last time she had visited here an old lady with grey streaked blonde hair had paid unnaturally close attention to her. It sent shivers up Z’s spine to remember the reputation she had earned here as ‘Riverwood’s Whore’. Still, she had silenced men from openly calling her that with a glare and broken their habits of touching by snapping a few fingers.

“What are you staring at?” Z demanded without looking to the woman staring at her.

“I’m Delphine, the Inn Keeper. It’s my business to keep track of strangers” the woman replied in a low voice. Z sighed; turning her attention to the woman she had seen so long ago.

She was once a beauty, with a fine jaw and high cheeks that rounded out to give her an angular appearance. Despite the fact she was a Breton she held an Imperial air about her, proud and confident. Her eyes were small, wrinkled in the corners. Her nose was pointed and large. Her lips were long and thin, again wrinkled and dry. Her bare throat also had wrinkles, putting her age in the late 50’s. Her hair was tied back, her entire fringe region silver while the ends of her hair were brilliant ash blonde. 

“I’d like to rent the attic room” Z responded curtly, offering the required coin without asking. Delphine looked confused for a moment, but Z saw the recognition in her eyes. It was a miracle Z didn’t slap the woman then and there and kill the inn. She had walked into a trap, or something equally as bad. This woman had been expecting her.

“We don’t have an attic room, but take the one on the left” Delphine responded. Z caught her arm as she turned, letting her dark eyes bore into the older woman as she whispered.

“Let’s go where you are more comfortable talking,/ friend/” 

The woman nodded, walking towards the right room and in. Z followed, hands on her daggers. Once inside Delphine closed the door and roamed to the wardrobe. She opened it then fidgeted for a moment before a fake wall slid away, revealing a set of stairs. She led Z down into a room with weapons on the wall, books on a table in the centre and potions on another wall in shelves. Z herself was not terribly impressed with the setup, but for an old woman the set up wasn’t that bad. It was habitable, barely.

“Ok, Delphine. You’re not a Greybeard. The only other person who would be looking for a Dragonborn and know enough to find the horn is a Blade. So, the Blades want me to do something for them. What is it?” Z let her words out slow, her eyes taking in the Horn on the table.

“I am not your enemy; I’m actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out” Delphine started. Instantly Z’s neck bristled, but still she nodded her agreement and allowed the old bat to begin.

“I am part of a group that’s been looking for a Dragonborn for a very long time. As I said in my note, I’ve heard you might be Dragonborn. But before I tell you anymore I need to know I can trust you, and that you are what you claim. I need you to prove yourself” Delphine was trying to be tactful but Z wouldn’t have it.

“To Oblivion with that!” She yelled, slamming her fist down on the table with enough force to make the books jump. Delphine herself jumped at Z’s sudden outburst. The Dragonborn looked to the weapons wall and growled.

“Fus” she yelled, sending the weapons clambering. Delphine tensed as Z looked back to her.

“That was a shout, Blade. I am Dragonborn, and since you are asking for my help you need to prove/ yourself /to /me/! I am sick and tired of running around like a beheaded chicken doing quests for people who want my help. You do not ask a worker to pay you to work for you so do not treat the Dragonborn as anything but a hero. You need me to save the world and I don’t particularly care about its fate. So… If you want a Dragonborn working with you give me a good quest, treat me as a Dragonborn not a lackey and I shall aid you. If not, I walk out of here and turn you in to the Thalmor, get myself into their base and kill them all”

“Very well. The Greybeards leader, Paarthurnax, must die” Delphine spoke calmly, expecting resistance.

“The old Dragon, yes. You want a dragon dead, that is worthy enough. Do not ask how I know, it seems the Greybeards locked my memories away from me” Z turned to leave, but Delphine’s voice stopped her.

“I was expecting the other Dragonborn, not you”

“Other?” Z demanded softly. Her voice was not aggressive but there was no question on how badly she wanted the information.

“A Wood Elf, training with the Greybeards as we speak”

“How interesting” Z purred, her eyes alight with sudden flames. She was looking forwards to meeting a second Dragonborn in battle, be it her luck or curse. Her blood boiled as Delphine gave her the information and rough description; finally the words reached Z’s ears and froze there. Z was unable to prevent the roar that tore through her throat as Delphine spoke.

“Oh yeah, her name is Vale Valore”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah The writing style is my old style. I kind of figured that as a huge hero you should have been able to absolutely crack it at Delphine for fucking with you. not just little snarks. Z HATES being fucked with and messed around, so of course she'd lose her cool at all the confusion.


	17. Chapter 17 – Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z finally confronts someone who means a lot to her, yet she can barely remember how due to her fractured memories. She also finally meets the flesh and blood of her worst enemy, and another part of the Dovahkiin's legacy. 
> 
> Vale Valore.

Z stood before the Dragon Paarthurnax with a heavy heart. He felt important to her somehow, kindred and loved and yet her memories were blocked from her. Rage filled her as she watched the Dragon land before her, his nose almost touching hers. She had a grip on her dagger, knowing that she would honour him the way she knew best. With a clean death. A clean kill.

“Speak. I will listen” the dragon’s wise voice boomed. Z bowed her head for a moment, eyes closed seconds longer than needed as she let herself slip into the cold persona she had survived with.

“The Blades wish you dead. I am here to comply” she answered him simply. She did not avert her eyes from the amused dragon.

“I would no trust another Dovah, but you require my knowledge” Paarthurnax seemed cocky suddenly. The Dragon did not wear it well, instead driving Z to tighten the grip on her dagger. He was something to her, but her memory did not fare well enough to still her intentions.

“When I kill you, I absorb your knowledge, memories and soul. I need that, not you”

“Tell me, sister. What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?” The dragon struck a chord within her. She quickly raised the poisoned dagger and jabbed him in the underjaw, piercing his jugular with her second and third thrusts. He had no time to react as his blood fell to the snow, a bellow of fire escaping his jaws as he roared in pain. The fire missed Z, who leapt aside before she returned to his eye level.

“I will answer that when I can, master” she whispered, resting her hand over his nose.

“Make me a promise” he rumbled.

“Anything” Z replied without thinking.

“Protect the other Dovahkin” he gasped as his eyes lost their wisdom, then burned from his body. Z couldn’t help feel anger towards the Dragon. He had tricked her! Now, she could not kill Vale. Her anger evaporated as his flesh was claimed and Z absorbed the intense power from him. Images of training returned, yet she blocked the emotions of her actions as she watched the time she had spent with him. She would have fallen to her knees if she had not been prepared for something important. Even with his knowledge she could not understand his words to her, which drove her insane. As the last flicker of images and knowledge entered her she froze, senses alight with warning. She didn’t even turn around as she stood, head slightly bowed.

“Drem you lok, Vale” Z spoke calmly. She internally patted herself on the shoulder for the control in her voice. She felt blood across her face, flecks of war paint for her introduction to one of her greatest enemies.

“You… ki… kill… killed him. You killed him!” Vale’s voice was musical, soft and sweet with an innocent joy within. Z couldn’t help the thoughts of joy when she heard the pain within the voice. She couldn’t wait to break this elf, to hear her beg for her life then eventually beg for her death. A death Z would not give quickly. No. This elf had to pay! Her mother had to pay!

“I didn’t wish to do this, but both my quests demanded it. He had to pay for his crimes, as you must pay for yours” Z let her words come calmly, only a hint of regret in her voice. She didn’t miss a beat as she turned to view the Elf for the first time.

Her face was pointed, even for an Elf. Her skin looked soft, a natural sun kissed colour yet unhealthy and pale in its present state. She had the long, slender ears of the Elves, with sharp features that made her strikingly beautiful. Her cheeks hollowed out, yet still despite their sharp appearance they seemed soft, somehow, as did all her features. Her eyes were large and black, no white to speak of. Her blonde hair was long, well-kept for an elf with no one to view her. Even in the cheap dress she wore Z could tell she was fine, her limbs almost spidery. She was obviously underfed, muscular from holding positions for hours on end.

Z noticed the woman catch her breath. Her dark eyes were unreadable, or would be to one not experienced in the arts of reading people. This elf was awestruck, afraid and seething with fury. She was ready to snap. Z suddenly found an ease with having to protect this girl. She could inflict worse pain without landing a blow, if she toyed with the girl and broke her. She was so close to snapping, the joy of watching her explode was almost worth promising to protect her.

“I’ve done nothing wrong… Except kill you” Vale hissed her challenge. Her body was tense, almost expecting to stand a chance against Z. she almost felt sorry for the elf as she sighed. 

“Z” she stated simply. She saw the confusion dance through Vale’s expression.

“What?” the Elf lost all her bravado as she gave in to curiosity. Z made a note of that curiosity, it would be a useful tool later on.

“That’s my name, a name you will know until the day you die, just like I know the name Valana, or did” Z kept her cool, faintly aware of the blood running from her dark, curved dagger into the stained snow beneath her feet. She took a step from the bloody snow, which crunched loudly beneath Vale’s feet. Z herself could avoid the noise, and did. 

“You killed my mother?” Vale asked in shock, her breaths coming out as huffs. Z smiled savagely as she watched the smoke wisp from Vale’s breath into the mournful, cold air of the Throat of the World.

“She cannot die too quickly for destroying my family. A family that made her, she found gold a comfort to betray. Now I make it my life’s work, to destroy the Valore name. Until blood has been paid. That is one reason Paarthunax had to die” Z admitted. Her voice was still controlled and all physical signs of her rage hidden. Z felt her skin blazing, her hairs rising and her body twitching. She stared at Vale, letting her eyes darken into the fury that drowned people.

“You bitch” Vale yelled, taking a step forwards. Z was quick to shoot a paralysing spell at the Elf. Instead of holding it however she changed the spell to a healing spell, which appeared the same to the untrained eye. It was a test, and a lesson.

“It’s rude to call someone names when they are pouring their vengeful heart out” Z frowned, her whole face darkened. She knew the effect it would have on the Elf. She knew how her eyes darkened and dragged the feet from beneath people, drowning them in her darkness. She knew her cheeks would appear more hollowed, her lips dark and tempting. This was part of the game. Fear, arousal, confusion. All three were drawn into the Elf at once.

“Now where was? ... Oh yes” Z was suddenly cheerful. In truth she was unable to hind the amusement as she paced along the snow, silently trampling it as she paced with her hand splayed palm facing Vale. She alternated hands as she changed direction; she knew she had to draw back to serious before the Elf figured her trick out. It would be so delightful to inform the Elf of her mistake.

“The second reason, I’m sure his pupil knows well. He was the right hand of Alduin; he was responsible for many humans becoming imprisoned. Millions of deaths. I admire him in that sense, not even I have caused so much death, yet. The blades demanded he pay; I’m the closest of them to him. I believed it would be, easier and more… honourable, if a Dragonborn challenged him”

“Dovahkiin” Vale corrected, Z glared for a minute then sighed. Everything ticked over in her mind, and this was the perfect time.

“I prefer using human words, the stupid understand better” Z let her face soften again, adding to the insult with a cheeky cast in her eyes. She saw Vale’s jaw tense in fury, the trap was there. She had baited the elf and now the elf would fall, tumble into the void itself if Z had her way.

“I’m not stupid” Vale boiled, her voice lashing out despite her obvious fear. Z let her amusement show in her eyes. The elf had taken the bait.

“Then how is a healing spell I’m casting holding you? You can move, you do realise” Z replied calmly. She watched Vale’s mouth open and close in shock, her eyes narrow in seething hatred and rage. Instead of commenting Z simply threw a blade to Vale, grinning as the Elf’s eyes fell to her challenge.

“IISS SLEN NUS” Vale shouted, trying to freeze Z. Z simply sidestepped, making the desperate action appear planned and elegant. She watched Vale pant and huff, knowing the little Elf couldn’t shout again for a time. That was all the time she needed. She had slain dragons now, and the shouts came so easily to her that time became irrelevant. Providing she played right she could unleash shouts for hours.

“FUS RO DAH” Z shouted in reply. She loved watching peoples limbs flail as they were sent arcing through the air, from a simple movement of Z’s tongue and the power of her voice. She almost laughed out loud, had not a second shout been required. She knew this would hurt later, but this fight was worth the extra pain.

“TIID KLO UL… WULD” Z shouted. Slowing time then dashing forwards towards Vale. Vale had nearly gone over the edge of the cliff, and Z needed to keep her alive. She grabbed Vale by the hair and arm then threw her back onto the flat snows, towards the blade she wanted Vale to lift. Vale yelped and screamed as she hit rocks hidden beneath the snow, rolling and bouncing towards the blade. The Elf’s skin had gone pink from the cold, her breath shaking from the cold. Her dress was torn in several places. Her expression was priceless as her eyes flicked to the blade. 

/“Yes. Pick it up girl”/ Z silently preyed. She was denied as Vale unleashed several shouts at her. Z used her own avoidance skills to her defense, along with the odd weak shout to unbalance the Elf. Finally Vale fell to her knees, panting and holding her sides.

“Ho…how?” The Elf gasped out. 

“You have knowledge Vale, but I have slain dragons. I have my own and their knowledge, experience, memories and power. You cannot best me this way” Z explained. She saw the disbelieve over the Elf’s face as her eyes again roamed to the blade. Z wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

Vale growled furiously as she pulled the blade confidently. Z almost laughed as the elf stumbled, barely able to hold the weight of the sword she lifted. Z took the opportunity to step forwards with her own dagger drawn. 

One shot across her body lashed the blade from Vale’s trembling hands. Z then ducked and slashed again, acting to an unseen battle in her mind. Her dagger tore into Vale’s belly before the elf could react. Z smiled at the scream that escaped the suddenly petrified elf. Z then spun, dropping to one knee. She contemplated using the sharp of her blade but settled for the flat, driving the blade into the back of Vale’s knees and dropping her to the ground.

She stood, lacing her fingers through the stringy hair of the elf. She pulled back, baring the Elf’s neck to her blade. It was still coated with Paarthurnax’s blood, which now stained Vale’s throat. Z paused, suddenly regretting saying “anything” to her dragon master. She viewed him as such with her mind cleared, but refused to dwell on the memories. Vale’s breathing was so heavy that Z wondered how she managed any sort of stealth, let alone to sleep without waking the Grey Beards. 

“Rule one. If you draw a blade, the enemy believes you intend to use it. Every time you start a fight you must be willing to kill, or die for the cause that drew your weapon without your mind” Z let her voice come in a gentle toned whisper as she shook her head. Many didn’t know this, and few of them survived to see their children make the mistake.

“If you’re teaching me, you don’t intent to kill me. What’s stopping me from acting?” Vale growled. Z chuckled. The little monk had potential, maybe she wouldn’t be such a pain after all. Still, her question deserved an answer.

“Honey, I’m crazy. I don’t know what I’m going to do most of the time” Z laughed. She felt Vale relax slightly within her grasp, her head became heavier for a moment before the pain of her hair been pulled woke Vale up. Z cursed herself silently. As much as she regretted it she was willing to teach this elf, but should she die from the lessons no tears would be shed.

“Actually… I’m not going to kill you, but injure you. Then I give you time to bury the master, before I come to claim what’s left. I need armour and weapons” Z released Vale’s hair, spinning the blade out of the way as Vale fell. She didn’t want to actively kill her, where was the fun in that now she had a willing, hating pupil? She flicked her foot, kicking snow into Vale’s face. Part of it was malicious, but Vale had been hit in the nose and it required ice. Two birds killed with one stone. Or maybe it was two dragons killed with one very large boulder.

“You’re a monster” Vale coughed as she struggled to rise. Z could see her wavering. Z gave her a smile, a genuine sad smile. The words had been uttered to her all too often. It was sorrow that the words had no effect on her.

“I know” Z replied softly as she placed a kiss to Vale’s cheek. It was a gesture of binding, painful and promising return. The blood on her lips stained the perfect elf. She turned her eyes up to the forms drawing closer, the greybeards. Without hesitation Z allowed her cloaking magic to activate and snuck away, watching from afar as the Greybeards tended to Vale. There was a lot to do.

....................................................................................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write so I used my favorite song as inspiration.  
> I'm thinking of doing a one shot of this from Vale's point of view.


	18. Chapter 18 – Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z and Farkas share the night together, only to find out they were way in over their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of a sexual theme through this chapter.  
> Also can anybody tell me how to make italic work correctly?

Z watched as the Greybeards carried Vale away, their eyes filled with sorrow. Z herself felt no pain, for the first time she felt free and joyful. She left with a skip in her gait as she began down the mountain towards Whiterun. She was using shouts to bend the environment to her favour, but she doubted many would notice or mind. She did, after all, have to get there before the full moon night arrived.

 

……………………………………………………………………….

Z stalked in the shadows, watching Farkas awkwardly waiting for her outside of Whiterun. She couldn’t resist the chance to scare him as she moved to stand directly behind him. She resisted the urge to touch the strong bare arms, to just touch him in general. He was one gorgeous hunk of man with a darker side of Werewolf. He could easily be the hero in an epic love tale, with cheesy love scenes and endless duels for a woman’s honour. If only life were so simple. He turned around with a huge sigh, coming face to face with the waiting Z. His eyes were wide, silver flashing to almost white as he leapt back in startled fright.

“By Sithis!” he cried without thinking, swinging a punch for Z’s head. She ducked the blow with a loud laugh. Hearing Farkas swear in her god’s name was undeniably a turn on for her, especially the rumble of fear in his voice.

“Cursing like an assassin now?” Z asked with a cheeky grin.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that” Farkas grumbled. Z grinned, taking the opportunity to run her fingers through his hair. She winced, it was greasy. He really needed to wash it. Fast. She was suddenly glad he had accepted her challenge; she could abuse her power and make him actually bathe properly. 

“Were you scared I stood you up?” Z cooed, smiling as Farkas’ cheeks became pink tinged.

“You are… different” He stated simply. Z battered her eyelids at him and smiled, feeling the melting snowflakes in her hair. She was still covered in blood and grime from her journey back. The fact she had not bathed revealed how close she had been to running late. Z found herself wincing at the grime, yet enjoying her new rugged side to her usually flawless, shadowy self.

“I should feel flattered, instead I find myself somewhat insulted” Z retorted, leaving Farkas confused. As always. She gazed at him for a while; the soft setting sun illuminated his skin, bringing every scar and imperfection to light as a beauty. The little scar on his brow always drew Z’s attention, how he had acquired it since she first ever saw him was a mystery. One she made stories about, often a result of Farkas and his brother been mistaken for an assassination contract. Z could dream one day Vilkas would be killed, but tonight was about his twin. It was odd how remarkably different they were, despite their appearance and act.

“If we are hunting, we should get out of city views before we change” Z broke her daydreams to announce, Farkas gave her a wolfish grin and nodded.

“Lead the way”

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Z grinned as she found the pool which was filled with rains a few days earlier. They were cautious, as they were somewhere near a Giants camp but Z could hardly contain her excitement as she began undoing her chest plate. She felt every buckle against her cold fingers; she began bumbling to loosen the straps before Farkas spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asked in his usual tone. Z suddenly bit her lower lip, an idea forming in her mind. He was so clueless; direct action would soon be needed. But first she had to play the cards right, the time wasn’t right… yet.

“Taking a swim. This pool is deeper than when I saw it last… YOL” she shouted fire into the water, warming it as she continued unbuckling her armor. She was quick about it, but her clothes underneath she decided to leave for the time being. She turned to see Farkas struggling with his own armor. 

“Allow me” Z whispered, allowing her tone to become husky. She saw Farkas actively tense at her voice, eyes slightly wide and shocked. She couldn’t help give him a genuine smile, even showing her dimples. He softened, still confused but less afraid as Z unbuckled the chest plate from his underclothes. He wore a simple white linen shirt beneath, which stunk like sweat and rust. Z screwed her nose up as she took one of his hands and began to work his gauntlets free.

“Why?” he asked simply. Confusion and anxiety flooded Z but she didn’t break her persona, continuing at the gauntlet with perfect precision. The leather seemed rougher than she was accustomed too, thicker as well. It was simple though, criss cross strapping that came undone at a touch.

“Elaborate” Z responded with one word, eyebrow cocked as she looked up briefly at Farkas.

“Me. Why me?” He asked. Z stiffened. She had not expected this depth of question from Farkas. She struggled to think for a moment, opening her mouth and closing it. He expected love, his gaze held the same affection. Z soon realised this was a mistake; she winced internally at his puppy like hope that she could ever return such an emotion. She steeled herself however; she couldn’t let the look in his eyes affect her mission. She needed the advantage.

“You’re strong, handsome and you saved my life” Z admitted. She was shocked at the honesty in her words. She neglected to mention his pleasing muscles and his perfect ass but she doubted that would impress Farkas. Despite his simple nature he was an emotional man, not hung up on looks and profession alone. Admitting to his looks drawing her in would only push him away. That was not the game. 

“The game” she had to remind herself once again this was all a game.

“So? Swimming is just a chance to see me naked then?” Farkas asked with a smirk, for a second Z felt foolish and hung her head. She knew there was a disappointed blush on her face and made no effort to hide it. She was startled as she felt Farkas’ hand push a lock of hair behind her ear. After a moment she knew what she had to do, and ignored every emotion.

“Works both ways” she backed away, resuming with her own armor and ignoring Farkas. She felt his attention on her back as she slid her remaining clothing off. She paused to look at her gauntlets, aware that the harsh lines beneath had caught Farkas’ eye once. Without speaking she removed them then slid into the water, expecting to be alone.

It was warm as she ducked beneath, feeling the water threatening to touch her eyes underneath tightly closed lids. She erupted from the depths with a soft gasp, allowing her head to fall back as the water streamed from her flesh and clung in her hair. Despite its fineness there was much of it, which made a thick mess of raven locks when wet. She turned to look at Farkas, a gentle smile on her face. She could love him, maybe. It annoyed her how she could easily see a future in his strong arms, when in reality she belonged to no ones. Her heart was not something to be given so easily, it was a hunk of darkness within her. She reminded herself to remain, dead. Predator, sultry, possessive. This was her role this night, and Farkas was the unwilling pray.

“/Perhaps he is not so unwilling/” she grinned at her thoughts as Farkas slid into the water, wincing at the mud between his toes, perhaps. Z however didn’t give him time to consider it as she walked to him, water just beneath her breasts. When she reached Farkas she pushed him backwards, closing her eyes momentarily at the feeling of his strong muscles beneath her hands. She had never expected him to be so soft to the touch, yet his hard muscles and soft skin were perfect. She winced. This was wrong. She realised too late she did not wish this; she did not wish to be so cruel. Maybe she wasn’t as dead as she had let herself believe.

“Do you like what you see, little wolf?” She asked in a low tone, grinning as she threw a leg over him. He rested with his back in the shallow waters, shoulders held up by the bank. She saw the desire in his eyes as the full moons light shone off his flesh, again illuminating him in the perfect light. She looked to her own hand, her cured line shone like moonstone, and her uncured rubies and opal. Her skin was milky and beautiful, shadows among her form made her near irresistible. She saw the effects in Farkas’ eyes.

“I do” his reply sent shudders through her body. His hands had slid up her thighs to her hips. Her mind and heart screamed against this, her assassin side knew it necessary but something drove her. A primal side longed for this, but not in this weak form. She felt the change as she bent down and kissed him. She admired the metallic taste of blood as she bit into his lip. Her chin brushed his stubble as he lifted his head, tongue brushing against her sealed lips immediately, licking his own blood from her lips. She drew back, shocked at his actions and by her own. He gripped her wrist, bringing the pulse point to his lips as he gently kissed it. Before Z knew it his teeth had sunk into her skin, causing every muscle in her body to go ridged.

“Mine” who had spoken no longer mattered, neither cared. The moonlight gave birth to something out of their control as they destroyed each other, only to create each other anew. Fur and skin became one, lips locked until jaws no longer permitted it. Human and wolf combined, both driven for pleasure through pain… and a bond neither could break.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Z woke to sunlight in her eyes. She felt the unfamiliar throb between her legs, and over her entire body. She groaned, expecting to wake to Ralof’s smart ass comments about how clean she was. She felt grass beneath her stomach, mud down her legs. She winced, scratches down her entire body. She licked her dry lips, wincing as her tongue traced a nasty gash. Never had she felt this roughened after sleeping with a man, despite she had been dealt worse damage. Something was satisfied within her however. The feeling frightened her.

“Ahh” Farkas groaned. Z froze, feeling his arm over her lower back as he snuggled into her. She dared a look towards him and felt the smile involuntarily across her face. No. She would not have this. She punched him to wake him, only to whimper as she felt a strike in her own face. Farkas had not delivered the blow, and there were no other creatures around.

“What in the Void!” Z yelled, leaping to her feet. Farkas groaned, rising to his knees in confusion, rubbing his sore cheek with a look of bewilderment in his eyes. Z looked horrified at the look Farkas held.

“Don’t look at me” Farkas barked his reply.

“You did this!”

“Are you sure you haven’t got a disease from some other guy and passed it onto me?”

“By Sithis! I will kill you” Z leapt, throwing blows into his face as he shielded himself from her onslaught. It did neither any good.

After wrestling on the ground they both sat, facing away from each other whimpering in pain. Z spat out blood while Farkas gripped his bleeding arm, trying to stop the wound from tearing further apart. Z was able to ignore more of her pain than Farkas, but she felt the need to comfort him. She fought the strange urge as she stood, Farkas followed suit  
.  
“Let’s get back. Maybe Kodlak will know what’s happened” Z mumbled.

“Right” Farkas agreed.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………….

 

The hall looked the same. The table was set, the fire burned bright and warm. The Companions slept in this day, which was fortunate for the early rising Werewolves. Farkas and Z stormed into the room, Z a thundercloud of death and Farkas a lumbering hunk of confusion. The way Z kicked the doors open left the room staring at her. Vilkas and Aela looked confused as Z strode into the shadows, where she was most at ease.

“Brother, what happened?” Vilkas asked, gripping Farkas’ shoulder firmly when his brother shook his head. Z hissed, feeling the sensation as if it was against her own skin and body. The grip was strong enough to leave a bruise, and it held judgement. He knew part of the problem. 

“Do not touch me Vilkas” She let the words burn through her teeth before she could silence herself. Furious she glared at him, with his hand still around Farkas’ shoulder. His eyes were wide, as were Farkas’ at the hissing mess in the shadows that was Z. her hair was a damp mess, a tell-tale sign of her night. She smelt of Farkas and blood, sweat and mud with grass were also on her scent to another Werewolf. Aela’s nose flared before she burst out laughing, a rich sound that set Z’s teeth on edge.

“What. The. Fuck. Is. So. Funny?” Z demanded, the words escaping as hisses and growls through her teeth. Aela seemed not to mind as she looked to Farkas. She pulled his lip down, then pulled on his eyelids and wrists. Nodding in satisfaction she walked to Z.

Without asking she pulled Z’s lip down, inspecting her mouth as she did so. Her fingers tasted of honey, along with the faint taste of Farkas, metal and dirt. Z gaged at the metallic stench on her hands from cleaning weapons. Next she pulled the gauntlets off Z’s wrist, frowning at the lines she saw.

“We will discuss these later” she said under her breath, intending to threaten Z. 

“You can try” Z whispered back, equally as cool. Neither would win this debate. 

Aela continued with warm hands over Z’s cool wrists, inspecting her with a solemn expression. Finally she smiled again, smirk was a better word. Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and memory, her lips had curled into a self-amused smirk that drove Z silently insane. She looked to Farkas and laughed again.

“What?” He asked dumbly. Z would have picked on him if she had not been about to utter the same word in a more aggressive manner. Aela raised her brow.

“You mean, you don’t know?” She inquired, finally giving way to shock. The amusement did not fade in her eyes however.

“Know what?” Z growled in the back of her throat. She wanted to kill them all, especially Vilkas. She could find a way to kill him easily, and right now blinding rage had claimed her. Something had invaded her senses and set her on edge. It was unnatural, wrong for an assassin yet she couldn’t reject the slight positive feeling she gained from it.

“You’re bonded, sweet thing”


	19. Chapter 19 – Can This Day Get Any Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving a piece of irritating news an old acquaintance makes an appearance on the road. The events leave Z wondering... can this day get any better?

“Elaborate on ‘bonded’ Aela” Z demanded with a soft snarl. She had a sinking feeling she understood Aela’s meaning but she silently preyed she was horribly mistaken. Farkas was also looking shocked, eyes wide with shock and mouth flapping. Z smiled softly at the cute picture before she snarled in the back of her throat again. She reminded herself to remain furious, not to give in to the little sensations to cuddle or help Farkas. Whatever her caring side wanted was obviously infected with evil, bond-y magic and she would not give in. Even if he was adorable, and muscular in all the right places.

/“Stop it!”/

“For lack of better terms, married” Aela started. She paced, looking deeply troubled. She finally sighed and gestured Vilkas from the room. His eyes burned at her, also in memory but Aela would have nothing of it. She snarled deeply, not leaving her intent open for debate. Vilkas huffed and fled the room, Aela’s burning glare following him down the stairs. She looked over her shoulder to Farkas then back to Z.

“A Werewolf can choose a mate, even if the human mind disagrees. It is a bond forged beneath the full moon, just a bite and … some love making, and the bond is sealed. The senses will fade after a time, but becoming separated will almost destroy you both. It is a strong bond indeed that you can sense each other’s bodies so intensely” Aela tilted her head, sizing Z up as Farkas came to her side.

“If you are calling us soul mates I will stab him to prove otherwise” Z spoke coolly. Aela laughed softly; there was sympathy in her voice as she spoke.

“It would hurt you terribly” she warned. To prove her point she turned her foot and kicked Farkas between the legs. Z hissed in pain as Farkas yelped, dropping to his knees as if a wolf had bitten him. Well one had, just not there… Z hoped. So far, only Farkas knew. She could hardly recall her actions, only the intense emotions.

“Ho… how come she isn’t on her knees” Farkas managed to grunt out, supporting his weight on one hand and his knees. His other hand was busy holding his offended member, shielding it from Aela’s abuse. Z gave Aela a look that spoke volumes of venom. She did however smile; satisfied Farkas had received some form of punishment. This was all his fault! … Somehow.

“She’s a woman, and she did not receive the blow. Her pain is nearly equal to yours, but she handles pain differently. That is how your senses will vary, over time the pain will only be an awareness not an actual sense. It did with Skjor and I” Aela looked away, relief and pain in her eyes at the same time.

“You sensed him die?” Z half asked, half whispered to comfort. Aela nodded calmly, unable to voice the words she wished to utter.

“We were… another mistake” She whispered; regret flooding her face before she straightened. 

/“Regret at what/” Z wondered.

“/Regret at bonding to Skjor or regret at losing him? Regret at her regret? How delightful/”

“I have caught wind of the Silver Hand sniffing around Riften. Go, kill them and receive their plans” Aela ordered, suddenly every inch the warrior she was. Z nodded, not even bothering to ask why she had spoken before Farkas. She just hated this now, that she was so bound to a man she didn’t particular want to be bound to. He was attractive, good for a few days entertainment, but he wasn’t Veezara. She had sworn never to swear herself to another, now her promise was indirectly broken.

 

………………………………………………………

 

It felt good to be on the road again, even if it was with Farkas in tow. Shadow snorted happily under his mistress, who was solemn as ever as she relaxed in the saddle submerged deep in her usual dark thoughts centring around revenge and murder. The dark leather saddle felt good beneath her, the soft reins good in her blood covered hands. She stared down at her hands, for the first time in her life a little bothered by some of the lives she had washed away. The evidence of her deeds had long since been cleaned away, but she couldn’t ever forget the sensation. She was never one to feel guilt, but every kill was itched into her memory. She locked the memories away in a vault, but they were always there. Threatening and promising to return her to humanity as a broken husk. She scoffed, that was ironically what she had become. Now a husk was to be a champion to the people, after killing the one who deserved redemption because an order asked it of her. That kill weighed heavily on her, but it was the lack of a kill that claimed her mind the most.

Her neck prickled as she heard a twig snap. Somehow every sense was alive with a burning fire to kill. She knew the scent she smelt on the wind, it was that of one often attacking her of late.

“Duck” She suddenly warned, leaning forwards as an arrow flew over her head. It was poorly aimed yet fired with natural ability. She winced, feeling her side erupt with a minor throbbing pain. She turned to see an arrow in Farkas’ side; he obviously hadn’t heeded her warning.

“Farkas!” she cried in a fit state of panic. For one split second she didn’t know what to do, the pain and panic of him had leaked into her, she despised the double set of emotions. She sealed herself off, albeit slower than usual, to her emotionless logical place. Once there she found her head and turned Shadowmere to Farkas.

“Gee up” She ordered Shadow along by driving her heels into his side. His long strides quickly began closing the distance towards Farkas when something knocked her from the saddle, sending her rolling across the ground.

She found herself on her back, not an unusual or unfamiliar place to be for her if rumours from Riverwood were to be believed, under a furious elf, that was an unusual place even believing the rumours, with a knife to her throat, the most comfortable of the three.

Vale sat over her, thighs around her chest with one hand holding her shoulder and the other holding the dagger to her throat. Z grinned inside, feeling the dirt beneath her back with twigs poking into her flesh. She felt Vale’s legs closed around her all too loosely and uncomfortably. A quick judgement was Vale’s taste in lovers were fragile, she knew not how to hold someone down by force. Z almost announced her opinion but instead settled for laughing, a controlled cold sounding laugh. The dagger was almost drawing blood; Vale’s natural grip of weapons was of little shock to Z, knowing her mother… the bitch.

“Vale. Can this day get any better?” Z asked in a controlled tone, letting the sarcasm of her words hit home slowly. Vale growled above her, like an animal possessed as she glared down at Z. She believed Z easy prey, caught and whimpering. Z herself could barely contain her laughter, moving her body slowly into position without the enraged Vale noticing.

“When I kill you, bitch!” Vale hissed. Z decided then and there to cut her off. She quickly threw her feet up, locking her ankles around Vale’s neck. Without waiting she pulled down, feeling Vale’s entire body weakly resist her as she was pulled over Z’s legs. Z rose quickly, wrapping her body between Vale’s legs as she gripped Vale’s wrist. The Elf struggled but Z used her body weight to push Vale’s hand to her throat, effectively reversing their situation.

“Now, now Vale. You know my profession, but not my life. I do not advise attacking Farkas again” Z growled. She never even noticed she had used his name but Vale’s eyebrow rose in an attempt at Z’s face, unfortunately for the Elf she knew not how to arch her brows thus turning her face into a funny screwed up mess while trying to mimic the assassin.

“You care for another? I’m shocked. You seem like such a skank, I doubted you would settle” Vale delivered her insults as Shadowmere drew closer. Farkas snarled weakly in the back of his throat at Vale’s insult. Z however chuckled, her feet still beside the Elf’s shoulders. She resisted the urge to push down, instead gesturing to Farkas. He silently nodded, knowing exactly what she was asking for.

“It was not exactly intentional” Z replied calmly. She felt no reason to lie to the Elf, but she didn’t want to be friends either. Shadow stopped beside her, bending his saddle into her reach. Z used one hand, pulling out rope before she pushed the dagger tighter against Vale’s tender flesh. The little line of red that appeared was almost a pity, but Z couldn’t help smile as she bound Vale’s hands above her head. She stood; satisfied that Vale was bound correctly as she tied the spare end to Shadow’s saddle. She strode along his body, sliding her hands up his reins until she came to his head.

“Stay still boy, don’t let her escape” Z whispered softly, stroking Shadow’s nose gently as he leaned his head into her shoulder. He snorted softly, sending flecks of snot and mud flying onto Z’s hand. She chuckled, wiping her hand on his neck before she continued to Farkas’ side slowly.

She winced as she saw Farkas lying on his side, clinging to the bolt in his side. Z knew the bolt was barbed by the feeling in her own side, which was not as painful as Farkas made out to be with a groan. She was used to bolts and arrows within her flesh, Farkas was not.

She worked silently, drawing her dagger with a wave of nostalgia. She had often done this for recruits to the guild, with a knife like this. She suddenly missed her gear which had been taken when she was captured. The blade of woe and Astrid were in another’s hands, or worse, a dungeon lying to waste. She growled in the back of her throat as she drove the dagger through the leather straps, pulling the chest plate free in one quick motion. Her speed was a shock to Farkas, but not to her. Vale grunted as she pulled against her bindings, before becoming spellbound by Z’s swift movements. She touched the wound with her fingers, never wincing at the pain she felt and Farkas’ screams. Already she had figured how to block it out, and it worked to her advantage. She felt it but ignored which was something she was glad for. 

“This will hurt” she whispered, placing one hand down on Farkas’ shoulder. Without giving him time to react she drove the dagger home, wincing at the scream of pain that escaped Farkas. She flicked the dagger quickly, pushing the bolt from his flesh without the use of her hand. She winced at the bleeding as she pressed her hand to his side. She mumbled beneath her breath as she struggled to remember the words. What was the word?

“Ahraan is wound. Govey is remove. Haas is health. Slen is flesh. What words?”

She didn’t realise Farkas’ wound had healed under her mumblings; he was now shaking beneath her hand, wincing with the pain that was still present. She pulled him into her lap, hugging him gently as she pulled him to his feet, how she found the strength she didn’t know but soon she had him in Shadow’s saddle, and Vale tied to Farkas’ horse.

“Let me go!” Vale demanded as Z mounted. Z chuckled.

“Oh no, I’m going to make sure you don’t cause me any trouble, little Elf” Z let the last words rumble, driving the fear of Sithis into Vale. She had no idea what the crazy Nord had planned.


	20. Chapter 20 – New Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> events lead Z to Riften, where she continues to make friends in true Z fashion.

Few people dared give Z a strange look as she stormed through the streets of Riften with a tied up Elf screaming at her in multiple accents and languages. The sight of Farkas limping behind them holding his side was enough to make Z chuckle to herself. The rope was burning her hands as she hunted for her friend, knowing the danger of her dealings in their territory. She still had friends in low places, and in high. She finally gave up her search; the Elf bellowing at the top of her lungs was beginning to draw attention. She stormed simply towards the first thing of an Inn she saw, once inside she regretted it.

Her nose instantly picked up the heavy scent of vomit and stale piss. She winced, the bar of this place was ill kept but the scent of stale sweat was enough to make her feel sick. Her finer nose picked up the rotted water of Riften wherever she went, and horse manure from being so close to the stables. She could taste desire in the air, the longing and bitter sweet teasing. It took little guesswork to put the places true intentions together.

She strode calmly to the aging lady that ran the place with a swing to her hips. She noted how eyes turned to her; even Vale quit her struggling as Z finally rested an elbow on the counter, ensuring to keep her eyes on the owners with a sultry gaze.

“Welcome to Healga’s bunkhouse. If you’re looking for a place to stay this isn’t it for you. Try the Bee and Barb” The woman announced. Z guessed she was Healga.

Healga had once been a beauty, with high cheekbones and a fine nose, lush lips and carefree brow. Now her brow was slightly wrinkled, her nose still fine but now seeming more hawklike than fine. Her lips were no longer lush seeming, but over dressed with lipstick. Her cheeks hollowed out, and her brow dropped. Her blonde hair was going grey at the roots, with streaks throughout her hair.

“My dear, sweet Healga. I myself need no place to stay, but my poor, sweet, virgin friend here needs a bed terribly. Perhaps you could make use of such an exotic and untouched .beauty” Z smiled, offering Healga the rope with a smile that left the room hot under the collar. The woman smiled and took the rope, grinning like a minx herself. Vale shuddered, suddenly very afraid she would be violated by one of the women.

“How long?” Healga asked calmly, completely at ease with the situation. Z considered Vale for a moment before she spoke.

“A week’s stay would be adequate, then allow her to come find me if she so desires” Z handed Healga a coin purse then walked out, Farkas close on her heels.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Z swept her sweaty hair from her forehead as she rested her face against Farkas’ shoulder. She had to give it to the man, he had stamina. He had her sweating before they finally had reached their limits. It annoyed Z just how long he could hold out as well, but at the same time that made him the perfect partner. She rolled off him, hands against his chest as she let out a sigh; she hated the sensation of fulfilment he gave her as well. It just made the whole ‘soul mates’ thing stronger.

“Curse it” Z groaned as Farkas chuckled, wrapping one of his arms around her midsection and pulling her closer into his body. Z made no move to reject his motion but she most certainly did not return it. She lay on her back, catching her breath as Farkas fell asleep with his arm around her. Z refused to give in. She simply refused.

……………………………………………………………………………………

They snuck through the halls; Farkas surprised Z when he agreed to stealth. He further shocked her with his skill at it. Another thing that Z found astounding was his natural talent for pickpocketing. He had pinched the key from the guard without even alerting him to their presence, and now Z was spared the time and noise of lock picking. Farkas turned the key quietly, never making a sound as they entered the next room. Instantly Farkas felt sick.

It was a dungeon, repurposed to house cells that connected to a large ring beneath a raised viewing area. Z herself stared into the cages feeling ill, there were werewolves in each cell. Many asleep, others in human form but all wolves. Farkas snarled in the back of his throat, the look of fury on his face touched even Z, who nodded gently before they continued onwards, wolves snarling for their blood. Z put a hand on Farkas’ shoulder before they left.

“There is nothing we can do for them” Farkas said softly. Z shook her head, drawing her dagger as she strode to the first cell and inserted her key.

“There is something…”  
………………………………………………………….

 

Farkas watched as Z walked into the next cell of the wolf, instead of the creature fighting it lowered its head in fear. He watched Z gently touch its head and scratch, a gesture of peace before she drove her dagger straight between the eyes. Farkas winced at the sound of yet another body falling, closing his eyes to avoid the image. He never saw the look of pain on Z’s face before she settled it into the harshest stone, a mask of cold perfection. She strode with purpose from towards the final creature, dagger held by a firm hand and white knuckles.

………………………………………………………

 

Z couldn’t let her emotions free, despite how desperately she longed to. For once she wanted to be able to turn her head, to wipe her hands free of blood that shouldn’t be shed. Instead she strode with a purpose, her gait fluid even in her tense state. The only betrayal that she felt for these beings was how tightly she gripped her dagger; the metal of the hilt almost melted beneath her tight grasp, the leather would not remain unharmed. For once she was glad the blood wasn’t on her daggers, then she thrust the thought aside. Since when did she feel guilt? Regret, hopeful thinking, sure, she always wished for a free life but she never felt guilt. Another damn thing she had learned. The world was so unclean, it shook her certainty.

She strode forwards to the final wolf, letting it see the look in her eyes. Once more no fight was put, it leaned its head heavily into Z’s affectionate pat. She scratched the course hair aside gently with her fingers to run them against the leathery skin. The Werewolf’s eyes closed in pleasure with the tip of its tongue peaking from his lips before she thrust her dagger home. She braced as bone resisted for but a moment, before the dagger slid in and ended another life. She refused to say she had ended another’s pain. She would not try to sugar coat her actions. She had taken another life. She had taken another life and felt nothing. No guilt. No remorse. No regret. Not even a drive for vengeance… Nothing.

 

……………………………………………………………………..

 

She calmly walked towards the door. Farkas was behind her, she could taste his fear at being so close. Z let herself bask in the glow of fear she felt from the normally cool Werewolf behind her. He was hard to intimidate by any means, now he was cringing at her presence. She sighed almost silently as she touched the door.

“No! You will not harm daddy!” a child screamed as he rushed at her. Z saw the glint of light of steel and prepared herself. 

The child was a featherweight as she ducked, hand holding under his arm as she lifted him, driving her blade up in the process. The child arced through the air via her guiding, when he came down to the ground Z thoughtlessly drove her dagger home in his chest, the blood splashing up to coat her hands. She twisted the dagger before she jolted it up, tearing a larger wound in the already fatal injury. The child whimpered but Z cared not, she simply pulled her dagger free and stood, turning to face the door as Farkas gaped at her. She was not in the mood to play.

She kicked the door open with a silent snarl on her face. Before the people inside could react she threw her dagger, burying in the chest of one man. She drew her second, running forwards and rolling. She came to a kneeling position before the man when she drove her dagger up into his belly. She then ducked sideways, tearing the man’s guts open before she plunged a hand inside. The warmth of flesh and blood embraced her hand as her fingers knotted around his gut, or what she believed to be his gut. Without second guessing herself she ran towards the drop, pulling the man’s intestine out as she ran. With a forwards flip she leapt over a wooden frame, then swung back to plant her feet into the boss’ chest as she hung from the man’s intestine and his body. She released it straight after, walking straight towards the petrified man she was hunting.

“The plans?” She demanded with a growl before she placed her foot on his chest. The man hastily offered her a book, instead of accepting it she gestured to Farkas.

“If you would, my hands are covered in blood” Z spoke in a tone that left no room for debate. Farkas silently took the book and opened it, reading a few pages before he nodded. Z looked down at the terrified man as she slid her foot to his throat.

“Do not fear the void, Embrace it” then twisted.

………………………………………………………………………………

 

The moment they arrived in Riften Z knew something was amiss. The shadows seemed darker, beckoning to her. Fewer people were out and several torches burned dangerously low. The way the clouds swept across the moon gave Z a strange sense of thrill, and a stronger sense of caution. Shadows embraced most of the streets, and figures flickered within the darkest. 

“Farkas. Go to the Bee and Barb, rent a room and let no one in. Lock it down” Z whispered quietly. He nodded, walking away from her as she leaned looking into the waters. She looked around a few times before she dove, not even wincing as the cold, stagnant water embraced her form. She swam under the walkway, listening to the whispering of High Elves.

“Find the Dragonborn, and kill her”

“How do we know she’s here?”

“Valore says she’s working with the Blades. She’s here” The name was enough to make Z tense. Her feet touched rock in the water yet she stayed perfectly still, not even a ripple tore the water’s calm surface. Z’s mind was rampaging, her head pounded from the effort to contain the roaring beast within. She assumed the wolf had something to do with this.

As the clouds parted and the moonlight shone Z hissed softly. The image that teased the water was of a robed high elf, with dark blue robes and golden trimming. The warrior before him was in steel plate armor, highlighted by a handprint on its shoulder. Z hissed. She had never seen silver hand armor, but this armor was clearly designed for animal combat. It’s bulk made it near immovable, the spikes on the knuckles perfect for a jab to a wolf. And the spiked and jawed helmet perfect for deflecting attacks to the head from a Werewolf.

“Valore, isn’t that a Dark Brotherhood name?”

“The Listener herself, she despises the order that betrayed her. They sent a child to do her job, and the child failed. Even if my mistress was involved with her failure, she can’t do everything herself to lead those lawless assassins”

Z snarled under her breath, thankful for the loud gust of wind that blew to block out her slip. She swore elements were on her side as she edged away from the voices. Every instinct told her to kill, but she knew she could not. Instead she swam away and pulled herself up onto the next walkway. She froze at a gate, turning to throw two spare daggers at the talking men before she slipped into the shadows of the sewers.

No one was perfect.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………..

 

The Ragged Flagon was the city beneath the city of Riften. An old sewer point turned into a bar for the Thieves Guild. The roof arched to an open grid, a sewer hole in the streets above where light filtered down from during the day. In the shadows of night candles were lit on each wooden table, which littered a section. Z walked around the neck deep water circle in the middle of the room, over the wooden bridge from a water runway into this candle lit section. Every figure was a shadow, but she was looking for the shadow. Aside from Brynjolf she was looking for an Argonian known as Scar-Heart.

She knew Scar-Heart from a time she would rather forget, and often did. He had been in prison with her once, the cell next door. She had never seen him in health but the harsh scar on his chest gave him away. Scar-Heart was not his real name, she knew this, but out of respect she did not push the issue. An Argonian’s name was sacred to them and they often made them simpler for other folk whom did not speak their tongue.

“I thought I smelt an animal here” A raspy voice came in her ear as hands wrapped around her waist. Z chuckled as she was released, a dagger in her back. She expected nothing less from Scar-Heart.

“Scar” She said simply. The dagger tip twisted against her skin but did not draw blood before it was removed. She didn’t move an inch save for the corner of her mouth twisting into a smirk, her mask of the assassin was now worn. The Argonian chuckled himself as he spoke.

“Here for the old man as well?”

“If the Thalmor want him dead, I want him alive” Z answered honestly. If there was one thing worse than Imperials it was Thalmor. She didn’t hate High Elves, she hated Thalmor. Many Nords had forgotten the difference but Z had not. She never forgot, only embraced and destroyed. Sometimes she ignored minor details; the closest she came to forgetting was burying memories away for another day.

“Hmm. And The Silver Hand?”

“Don’t make me hurt you” Z spoke coolly, doubting he even realised the burning hatred behind her words and noticing how every figure at the bar tensed at her threat even though it was in jest. She didn’t let herself be caught as her eyes moved slowly; taking in the information required should a fight ensue. She knew that Scar-Heart was in deep with the Thieves Guild, naturally the whole bar would be on his side. She knew however that they knew that she was in deep with the Dark Brotherhood, and she was on first name basis with Maven Black-Briar. This was an interesting situation.

“Check the ratway” Scar-Heart answered her with a gulp. She could hear his fear, almost taste it in the air. It was delicious. 

“And take this note. It was left for you” Scar-Heart added. With the answer she needed she wasted no time in moving towards her goal. She was not about to let the Thalmor and Silver Hand beat her. Not Z. Not the best assassin in the Brotherhood. Not The newest member of the Circle. Not a Werewolf bonded to Farkas. Not the Dragonborn. Not her. Not Z. Who was she though? The question didn’t stop her but it nagged the back of her mind. She would need answers one day but for now everything was laid out for her.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

It was easy in the sewers. So many shadows and so much junk she could easily destroy the soldiers without ever seeing their faces. She felt the blood on her hands as she twisted her dagger, confident in her ability to not only reach the man first but also eliminate every Thalmor she came across. They came down in their robes, expecting to be a match for her with armor and dagger. It almost made her sick at how easily they bled and died. Magic had obviously thinned their blood. It flowed like water.

She snuck up on a group of Thalmor with a savage grin on her face, dagger held between her teeth as she held her body to the roof with the pressure of her hands and feet against the thin passage way alone. She loved how the group turned to peer into the shadows, slowly edging closer together as they tried to find Z. They never knew who Z was, but they knew they were under her gaze.

They had been fools. They had entered the realm of shadows, never knowing Z was the demon waiting to devour them. She was their broken dreams, their nightmare, their worst fears and lost hopes. She was goddess in the realm of places of shadow, in the places long forgotten by the sun. She hated them all, but they lived in fear of her. With good reason.

She let her dagger go from her teeth as she flicked her hand beneath her, she caught the dagger as she held her body with one hand and her legs. She strained silently as she waited for the enemy to catch up to her, in the darkest shadows she waited to strike. The first enemy travelled beneath, followed by others. It was now Z let her body fall.

She dropped silently, in a crouching position as she drove her dagger through the armor into the eye socket of the only armoured soldier down in the sewers. She twisted her dagger as she perched with her feet on his shoulders. Before lights could touch her she leapt sideways, gripping the grid she knew was there. She held with one hand as she twisted her body to grin at her attackers, who were gazing ahead fearfully. She watched the corpse spout blood as she waited for one to look her way.

Eventually one robed man turned to stare straight into her crazed eyes. She pounced, knocking him to the ground with a hand around his throat. She had crushed something within his neck, he could no longer scream. She grinned down as she swiftly hacked several arteries, allowing the Thalmor High Elf his chance to bleed out, forgotten in a ditch. She pulled his neck up to whisper into his ear savagely.

“Just where you belong” she let the coolness of her assassin voice chill the men to their bones. The walls seemed to grow cooler with her words; the whole passage was suddenly still and silent as the grave. The kind where the dead didn’t rise to try and eat everyone in sight.

She quickly rolled forwards, cutting the legs from a third. Again she jabbed the dagger into fatal places, but did not grant a quick death. She left the men bleeding as she walked down the hall with a coldness that was uncommon, even for her. Inside she was raging, hunting for the next hand down in the sewers.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

 

She saw a man pounding relentlessly on a door. She let her body calm as she watched in curiosity from the shadows, looking for a sign of his allegiance. Finally he kicked the door, then turned to bash his shoulder against it. Z saw her evidence. The handprint she had seen on the other man. She walked slowly over, boots soundless against the slightly wet rock as she paced straight to behind the man. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. 

Without a word she threaded her fingers through his shoulder length dark hair, wincing at the greasy feeling of sweat and sewer muck. She pushed forwards, feeling resistance as she drove his head into the door. It was not enough; an elbow flew for her side and narrowly missed. Z looked down and her eyes narrowed. Thrice more she whacked his head against the door, relishing the sound of his nose cracking.

“Who’s there?” A scared, feeble male voice rung. Z gritted her teeth as she still held the man limp in her hand, Werewolf strength had its perks. She could smell no others nearby as she let the wolf seep into her nature for but a few moments.

“Let me in, old man. Before more thugs come to collect your head”

“I… No! I won’t do it. You’re with the Thalmor!” his voice cried. Z groaned, bringing a small bit of rope from her pocket as she bound the man she had just knocked out, hand to hand then around his waist. It was slow going one handed, but he offered no resistance other than dead weight. As Z finished she looked down and saw the note crumpled on the ground, half soaked in blood from her exploits. Silently she picked it up and read it.

“What happened on the 30th of Frostfall?” she spoke aloud. She heard the man take a sharp breath.

“Who are you?” he demanded. Z let herself grin, knowing she had all but unlocked his door with the question she let a softer comment from her lips than she had uttered in the sewers ever.

“Your new best friend”


	21. Chapter 21 – Savage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z's more savage side comes to the surface, leading her to play a nasty trick on Farkas.

Z expected a frail being behind the chained door, judging by the sluggish attempts on the multiple chains he bound the door with and his babbling. She expected many things from such a being, caution and weapons with traps. It was how she would act in such a situation, but she soon found she held the man in too high a regard.

When the door was opened she gazed into bright blue eyes. The man was bald, wrinkled as a dried raisin. His skin was pale, with grime on his bald head. His brow was high and light, his eyes sunken and his cheeks hollowed with age. His beard was white with traces of blonde at the end. His nose was large, as were his wrinkled ears. His body was frail, dressed in a white shirt and dark brown pants like a miner.

“Delphine is alive?” he asked in shock, Z nodded as she began to step in. She lowered her eyes down to the beaten man before her. Ideas flashed in her mind as she let a cruel smile show, reaching her nose in the snarl it became. The man winced as she bent down and gripped the man’s collar. She looked up to the frail old man with a sudden fury.

“If you want to remain undiscovered you better help” she whispered loudly, in her most intimidating voice as she bent her knees to squat beside her victim.

“You’ll have to speak up. I’m a little deaf in my right ear” the man replied, cupping his ear and looking genuinely confused. After a moments harsh scrutiny Z decided he was being honest and growled under her breath.

“If you don’t get out the way you’re going to lose your right ear” her threat obviously reached his left ear because the frail old man leapt to help.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

/“The night mother. Sithis came to her and bore her five sons. She killed them in his name. But did she kill them at birth? Or did she allow them to age before she committed a true sacrifice to the Dread Lord Sithis? She allowed the boys thirty years of life, each bore a child as pale as the snow with a soul darker than midnight. She slaughtered her children in Sithis’ name, before her grandchildren. So she bound the curse of the hand, of the blood five”/

 

Z took a gulp of air as she woke; sweat covering her body which was stripped down. She looked around the room and quickly realised she was not in her own bed, or in Farkas’ room. She tilted her head and saw books. She stood up, finding a glass dagger as she walked around to stare at a door, covered in chains. She heard a cough and leapt, pinning her enemy against the wall with a loud crash. She placed the dagger against his throat, panting heavily from the rush of shock she had received. She felt a bony shoulder beneath her left hands grasp, not the muscle she had expected of another assassin. She paused, tilting her head as she gazed through unseeing eyes.

“/Kill him. Please the Dread Lord/” The voice again, Z shook. She fought the urge to kill, something wasn’t right here. The dagger fit her palm too well, it was not her own however. It wasn’t at all awkward in her hand, truth be told she felt at complete ease with the weapon, as if it was an extension of her own arm.

“/Tata come visit again or I’ll pluck out your eyes/” a manic voice followed by laughter. Z grinned, feeling the laughter in her body as she tilted her head the other way.  
“/Oh, such a shame. Aww well, should you kill him… The answer is cheese!/” the voice continued. Z growled softly, confused at her own hesitation. She eventually started thinking, ignoring the manic and sweet whispering and used her own voice. The shoulder was frail. Frail old blue eyed Nordic male. Riften sewers. Thalmor…

“Valore” she snarled, not even recognising the blood dripping from her tone. The body tried to cower away from her into the wall as Z took a calm step back and growled furiously like an animal caged against its will.

She began to walk away, towards her armor which was stacked neatly at the foot of the bed. She was glad she already had her leather pants on as she pulled the second layer of leather over, strapping the dark metallic fronts to her thighs to knee where a joint was placed in the metal before she strapped it to her shins and pulled her boots on, admiring how the armor attached to her boots. She took her foot down from the bed and put the other one up, grinning as the metal collided with the leather edging that made it silent. She bound the metal to herself quickly, suddenly wondering where this armor had come from. She paused, realising it was not her own and yet it fit perfectly. She turned her eyes to the elderly man.

“Where did this armor come from…” she paused, clicking her fingers in thought. The name eluded her even now. She had not asked the man’s name, she had almost killed him. Stood before him in leather pants and a breast band while holding a dagger to his throat and she had no idea who he was, only that he knew a Blade.

“Esbern. Someone dropped it off for you. They left a note” the man replied with a thoughtful expression. Z was silently shocked that the suspicious Esbern had even let this person in, let alone accepted armor from them. Still, she turned and took the note from Esbern and read the single word written on it.

 

-Solitude-

 

Z didn’t speak as she lifted the gauntlets; she froze as she stared at them. Recognition flooded through her body as she placed them on the bed and looked to the dagger. She froze, lifting it to the light to see the name engraved into the blade. Astrid. Z’s body was alive with savage joy as she lifted the chest piece, admiring how the metal appeared like leather. It was light and sturdy, obviously enchanted for silence. She clipped the breastplate into place before binding it at the sides to hold her back and midriff in place. She then lifted the engraved gauntlets, feeling the whispering power within them as she placed her Dragonborn gauntlets in place and tightened the straps. She stood ready as she turned to the box, seeing the curved blade she desired to see. Her hand shook for a moment as she lifted the blade of woe into her hand. She felt its weight a balance with a pleasure that was unnatural and inhuman. It was better than killing, it was better than any man she had experienced. It was utter euphoria.

“I am complete”

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

 

When Z had delivered Esbern safely to Delphine she began her journey to Whiterun. Farkas was by her side again; ready for battle or anything else Z could come up with. She had not spoken a word since she retrieved her daggers, yet her silence was not uncomfortable. Farkas seemed to understand, never uttering a word himself. The travel was surprisingly pleasant, Z found herself at ease with Farkas in their silence. She hated it as much as she enjoyed. Her only ease was with Veezara, yet this man she hated provided the same effect as her fallen beloved. Z was not too proud to say she was in love with a dead man, a dead beast no less. She was the shame of Skyrim to many, falling for an equal to a slave or beggar then continuing to love him after death had claimed him and his body had returned to the earth.

“What troubles you?” Farkas finally broke the silence. Z had to admit, he was very keenly sensed when it came to her. He was also not as stupid as many made him out to be. What could she say though? The truth, he was? Further truth that it was the comfort he gave her. Should she lie? The word nothing formed on her mouth when a shadow flashed across the ground, larger than a hut. 

“Dragon!” Farkas cried, pushing Z to the ground as flames rushed for her. She cursed silently as the smell of burnt flesh and steel reached her nose, accompanied by Farkas’ agonised scream. Her body ached to help him but her mind was crisp and clear. She blocked the notion of pain from her mind and drew her mismatched daggers, twisting them in her hands as she walked calmly towards the dragon which had landed a small distance away. She sidestepped its flames calmly, never missing a stride as the Dragon suddenly looked fearful.

“Dovahkiin” it snarled, then began to pace backwards quickly. Z never changed her gait as the dragon became caught in the trees it had backed into. Its huge wings flapped and it averted its gaze to begin freeing itself, it was then Z ran. She didn’t even cry as she slashed it across the nose, ducked a bite and placed her foot on its fangs. She then drove her daggers into its flesh and pulled herself free from its jaw to lock her legs around its nose spike. The Dragon roared and raised its head up, bellowing flames. The flames were cut as a cry came from Farkas, Z dared not look but she knew that Farkas had driven his blade into its throat. Weight pulled the Dragon’s skin taught as Farkas held his blade with both hands, buried to the hilt in the Dragon’s flesh. His weight tore the blade down, releasing a crimson cascade as his feet finally found ground. Z dared flip off the dragon, landing with her back to the flaming mass.

She cried silently in pain as the soul flowed into her. She had never heard of Dovahkiin feeling anything but pleasure from absorbing another’s soul, but for Z it was agonizing. She would collapse, she was positive she would. Her balance wavered and her sight was nothing but blackness, her mind absorbing the information from the Dragon, decoding what it could for her to understand. She staggered, trying to find her balance. Why couldn’t she find it?

She froze as she felt the steel hands around her arms. Z couldn’t help stagger forwards, finding herself pushing into Farkas. She gasped loudly, cursing her poor luck as she felt the dragon haze flood from her system. It was like a film of black drained from her eyes, granting her the vision into Farkas’ moonlit eyes among the red of dragons blood. His face and chest were covered, yet his eyes shone so clearly it almost hurt. Z could taste the dragons blood, feel Farkas’ body warmth even through his steel protection, she could see his eyes wide and bright as ever yet darkening with something beyond human lust. There was something animal there she longed to see again and yet feared the consequences of its reappearance.

It was so easy. She could so easily claim him for a short time. Everything screamed for action over control. Her blood pumped, her head pounded from the knowledge it was storing away. Her senses were in overdrive, she could even smell Farkas beneath everything. God she hated this man for been so tempting, yet so incredibly stupid.

“/This is like some Sithis cursed romance novel some priest of Mara would write/” Z cursed in her mind as she pushed Farkas back softly but with enough force to say she wanted her own space. Farkas clanked as he took a step back, clutching at his burnt side with a yelp that was so high pitched that it made Z jump. It was something you would expect out of a wolf pup not a Warrior. 

“/He is both/” Z noted with amusement. She paused, placing her hand over his wound with a grim expression. Farkas yelped loudly and leapt from her touch like it was fire. She didn’t speak a word as she took her cloak and bound his side. Then she walked away, slower than usual. She felt another full moon coming soon, but she didn’t take notice. She decided to tell him, everything about her past. It was foolish, too fast for any normal relationship. She would ask Aela about that later, but she believed he deserved honesty. He had after all tried to save her life almost at the cost of his own.

“Thank you” she finally whispered. She looked to Farkas and saw the shock in his eyes but it didn’t reach his soft expression. Z smiled shyly, knowing she was showing her dimples as Farkas spoke gently.

“You’re welcome”

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Z pulled the last of her armor free, leaving a shirt on over her leather pants. Her armor were strapped to a mannequin she had bought, holding her armor on display before her bed. She pushed the mannequin back into the cupboard and wrung her hands nervously. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous; she was finally able to pin it down. She would be made vulnerable before an animal, a Werewolf. She was going to be the perfect prey. With a swallow she opened her door and walked the empty halls, walking towards the main hall where Farkas waited in the late hours of the night when the Companions slumbered.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“You’re a weak coward” Farkas snarled, pushing her back as Z stared in disbelief. She had told him everything, instead of the reactions she expected, repulsion and fear she was met with accusation and anger.

“It was what I was trained for” She replied, her voice void of all emotion. She felt her body pulsing with rage, yet she couldn’t unleash it. Somehow she knew the time was not right, the moon was not high.

“Your family were all weak cowards. They died the death they deserved!” Farkas whispered in a voice that drove to Z’s heart, and added another crack to what was already broken.

Z lunged at Farkas, pushing him backwards over the table with a snarl. He looked terrified. He had just insulted her family; he had just told her what an animal she was. He had made her a slave to him, bound their wolves together. He had put her down, calling her weak and cowardly, yet he couldn’t help pant with the arousal coursing through his body as Z sat over him.

“You want an animal Farkas?” she hissed at him, her eyes so dark in their perfection, the black band thickening, almost consuming the shining midnight blue. Farkas swallowed as she knotted her fingers roughly through his hair, then forced her hand back. Farkas was stuck, his neck bent over the table as Z pinned him, throat open to her abuse or dagger if she wished. He was helpless in the face of the furious assassin. There was no escape. 

“An animal would tear your throat out” Z’s breathing was ragged, changing suddenly as she leaned down. She planted savage bites down his neck, drawing blood. It was pure pain, yet something made writhe beneath her. Not out of pain, but longing. Z was trying to show she was the alpha, a challenge with promising reward if he could just break free. His hands were trapped by her knees. He couldn’t defend. 

“An animal would show no control” Z added in her cool tone, the blood running down her face and her enraged breathing however made her purely frightening as she took her hand to his armour, then savagely tore at it. It came free, Z’s force throwing it to the floor with a loud clang. Farkas struggled as Z simply tore his armour from him like a woman possessed, a sabre cat would have been relieved of its pelt.

“I am an animal aren’t I?” Z began taunting, leaning off Farkas with a triumphant smirk looking down the stripped down Farkas, remaining in the clothes he wore beneath his armor. He stared at her, fear shone clearly in his eyes. She loosened her hand slightly, allowing him to stare up her, his eyes widened when his gaze rested on the poorly clad assassin. Her leather pants were still on but she had remove most of her leather armour, leaving her in a cut up shirt she wore when changing. Z was extremely muscular, he took extra time to notice. Her shoulders rippled, her stomach was toned. He couldn’t help think she was perfect. And she was his.

“You’re crazy” Farkas commented, Z smiled sweetly. It was so easy to forget how she could switch characters at a single word or phrase.

“It makes you hot and bothered, doesn’t it?” Z purred. She was not showing her shy side this night. The moon encouraged her behaviour. Their forced bond only drove her actions with more fury. Farkas was also driven, but the wolf remained silent within. Z’s did not. She was the wolf, the wolf was her. She was an animal. The perfect animal.

“I like animals” Farkas tried reasoning with the black eyed Z as she began to twitch her eyes; something was insane about her at this moment. Farkas was intrigued, his view was blocked however as Z tightened her grip on him, his hands were loosened upon, but still trapped.

“You’re an animal yourself Farkas… Tell me. What do you want to do?” She grinned, the insane grin that chilled everyone’s blood. Farkas was either too brave, or too stupid to fear this side of Z however.

“Let’s continue this in my room” he said simply, puffing his chest. Z smiled, tearing aside the cheap shirt he wore beneath his armour.

She had to pause and stare down his body, the hair growing down the middle, lining his abs ever so slightly. He was an unshaven animal, yet he naturally held perfection. Truly the finest creation of a man. Z’s breathing hitched for a moment.

“Oh no. Animal’s don’t care where or when” Z intended to humiliate him, the darkness outside had affected her, as had the full moon. Farkas however simply struggled free, gripping Z in a lock and forcing her face first into the table. He himself had intended to simply escape, but he felt her rump pressing against his aggravated area and suddenly his plan changed.

“You want an animal?” he whispered back into her ear, growling and breathing heavily. Z laughed, driving Farkas even more insane. Z sensed his hesitation as she spun her foot against his calf; he fell heavily over her, his face landed beside her.

“Try it” She growled. There was a promising challenge there as she managed to pull herself free of his hold and once more pin him against the table. This time there was nothing emotional about it; this was a hold because she could. It was not a tease, or something to inspire a lusty response, it simply was to bind him.

He replied by reaching his arm over and grabbing for her, his hold only brushed her thigh before Z’s fingers laced in his hair and lifted his head up. She smacked it down into the table without pause, letting Farkas know just how put out she was. On a second thought she smacked his head into the table again, then lifted a plate with her free hand and bent it over his skull for good measure.

“Another night” she almost purred in his ear before she was suddenly gone.

“Farkas? What is this racket?” Aela stormed up the stairs to see him almost naked, bent over a table groaning. She instantly got the wrong idea as several other members came up behind her. Their minds also reached the wrong conclusion.

“Farkas!”

“You have a room!”

“I never want to shake his hand again”

“I never want to eat again!”

The members made their startled cries and fled the scene, never noticing the shadow in the rafters above, grinning savagely.

Farkas let his head fall weakly against the table with another loud groan of pain and irritation.

“Better luck next time, my pet” Z purred before kissing his cheek and vanishing once more.


	22. Chapter 22 – Taking Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aela Challenges Z and ends up sparking an adventure for Vale with Z and "friends" from Riverwood.  
> The Dovahkiin women end up having a momentary heart to heart.

“Again” Z ordered of Vale as she watched the Elf groan on the ground. Her last flurry had effectively winded Vale, whom was in far better condition than Z had anticipated. Still, the Elf was slow and clumsy in comparison to the finely trained assassin. Vale spat into the dirt as she got to her feet, handling the light blade awkwardly. Z held a matching one, made of wood. Wooden blades were never Z’s style, but Vale was particularly inept with a weapon.

Vale stood with the blade held before her. Z didn’t even wait as she lashed for her left while ducking to the right. Vale moved to block the blade before Z’s elbow collided with her side. Z then stepped forwards with a spin and drove the flat of her blade into Vale’s ankle. 

“Ah! You hevno bitch” Vale yelped, hopping as she clutched at her ankle. Z’s eyes flashed with predatory instinct but her body obeyed her mind, slowly stalking her prey as Vale stumbled back into Vilkas. Z felt her skin crawl at Vale’s doe eyed expression at him. Z knew Vilkas’ style was to use and discard, but she couldn’t explain that to Vale. She noticed Aela’s furious gaze also, then subdued a smile as an idea formed in her mind. Aela was perfect for Vale, despite the same gender thing. If people had a problem they could go to hell. Using Vale would give Aela joy which Z wanted for the wolf who had become a friend. But it also granted an opportunity to use them for her benefit, which she was always up for.

“Brutal” Z corrected, giving Vale a gaze that made her shiver. Vale often spoke in Dragon tongue, something that drew unwanted attention to her; it was also something Z was going to correct. Z grinned as Vale stepped forwards. Suddenly Z had another idea. She placed her weapon down and gestured to Aela. Z kicked the wooden sword into the air, catching it by the hilt, blade down before she threw it to Aela, who caught it with less grace but still caught it. Aela stood before Vale, holding the blade up as Z came and stood behind Vale, resting her body against the small Elf’s. Her skin crawled, even though she didn’t betray her displeasure at her current position Vale seemed to understand and held her comments from escaping.

“Aela. Basic strikes” Z spoke, the woman nodded and readied her sword.

“Aye sister” Aela replied. Vale’s eyes pinned on Aela, although Z saw they were roaming everywhere but her blade. Z made a quick gesture of her hand behind Vale, Aela struck. The blow landed square in the Elf’s ribs, earning a startled yelp. Z didn’t let up, making another gesture. Aela struck towards her target as Z gripped Vale’s wrist and raised it, blocking Aela’s blow. The collision was enough to know the blade from Vale’s hand.

“Hopeless” Z mumbled, kicking Vale’s legs from beneath her and dropping her cautiously to the ground, still holding her wrist as she did so. Z wasted no time in bringing the wooden sword to her hands then pulling Vale up. She slammed the blade against Vale’s chest, causing the Elf to grunt as she caught the blade in trembling fingers.

“Again”  
……………………………………………………………………………………………

Months! Months had passed and nothing from the Silver Hand, Thalmor or the Blades had shown up. Z was livid, blind to the world around her. Malketh had written about gaining access to a secret place of Vampires, where his information could be invaluable. Z had put the idea down quickly, Malketh would not survive as a Vampire, Z knew this. She growled subconsciously as she slammed the next door she strode through. She paused. Since when did she slam doors? It was so unassassin-y. She paused, opening the door and slamming it again. It felt good to take her rage out upon doors, despite they didn’t scream and wail for mercy like Z enjoyed, although she knew it was a noisy way. She had often wondered what the obsession with slamming doors was, and now she had begun to grasp the concept.

“Message for you” Aela’s voice came. Z bit her teeth together before she shifted her jaw to the right, then back again, then left. She repeated this pattern of grinding for a moment before she pushed her tongue up against the roof of her mouth, making her feel the beginnings of choking. She swallowed and looked to Aela, eyes alight with contained rage.

“From a friend, of course. Meet in Riverwood, I assume” Z spoke in a tight tone, even more so than her usual collected. The words were strangled by her teeth as she refused to open her mouth properly, containing the urge to go and stab Esbern and Delphine for kicks. Maybe she could duel Vale? No, that was old and boring, not to mention Aela would get upset silently and Vilkas would complain loudly about his elf getting beaten up… again.

“The Karthspire” Aela answered, clearly in shock. Z shrugged, dropping her brows in a “do not question me” expression.

“Close enough” her tone gave casualness to her, but there was an edge that said “do not answer back” that Aela couldn’t ignore. She didn’t. Silently she nodded.

“Immediately” Aela added, wincing at her words before Z glared. The assassin was incredibly moody lately, and due to Farkas’ suggestion she showed her emotions openly. She was creepy in her assassin mode, but in open mode she was downright scary. Torvar was still in the Temple healing after she stabbed him for beginning a joke about her ass.

“Can no one actually handle their lives?” Z muttered, her expression as dark as night with eyes filled with murderous intent.

“Go fetch Vale. She can come along” Z suddenly found herself in need of amusement and Vale floundering among the worlds dangers would be very entertaining, not to mention educational for the poor Wood Elf.

“Really, Z? She can barely defend herself against Torvar, let alone whatever you and your /“friend”/ will be /assaulting/” Aela started. The word “assaulting” was not lost upon Z. Aela was angry at her, taking hidden digs at Z’s morality. It never bothered Z. she would admit she killed before, children even when she was forced. The child from Solitude had survived; Z had made sure of that. She regretted the child’s trauma, because it was a mistake he was there. She regretted been caught more so than traumatising a child.

“Skeletons, Drougar, spiders and dragons knowing my “friends” Z announced in her cool tone. Inside a fire boiled in her belly, warm and uncomfortable. She hated actually feeling emotions again, especially as intensely as she had been lately.

“Dragons! You’re barking mad if you think I’ll let Vale go with you!” Aela shouted, her stance suddenly aggressive. Z took one look at her without a sound, that froze Aela to the core. Silence was intimidating from Z, especially when her eyes had gone almost midnight black. She went this way when filled with lust, which was for Farkas’ view alone or when she was hungry for bloodshed. When she was death itself in a single, smooth often unseen action.

“Do not question me Aela” Z finally whispered. Aela stood firm, which drew a cold smile from Z as she pushed off the wall and stood before Aela. Z never slouched; even though she was not a particularly tall woman her presence in this state crushed anyone foolish enough to face her with such an attitude.

“You may as well kill her now” Aela spat, averting her eyes from Z’s harsh gaze. Z didn’t smirk despite she knew she had beaten Aela, she simply pushed the woman back, stepped around her. She gripped the back of Aela’s throat and shoved her head forwards, her other hand found Aela’s wrist and pushed her arm up behind her back at an off angle. She then shoved Aela into the wall, standing at her pinned arms side to ensure Aela’s free arm couldn’t reach her. Aela groaned as Z pushed harder, every inch terrifying as she whispered.

“That wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining”

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Aela couldn’t believe it as she walked up the stairs, still shaking her head hours later. Z was off her nut. Aela knew Z had some baggage, but this was downright cruel. She knew Z had a shady past and loose morals about killing and torture but she never realised how loose. She found herself reconsidering the friendship she believed she had with the woman, and she knew the reason. Vale. The Elf had wormed her way into Aela’s heart without trying. Seeing Vilkas mistreat her drove her insane but he was a member of the Circle as was she. Aela could do nothing. She yelped in shock as a knife almost pierced her lower leg, tearing the cloth part on one of her boots. She looked and recognised the dagger. Her own.

“Ops.” The voice was so chirpy Aela did a double check. She stared up at the roof in horror, her mouth fell involuntarily open. Z stood in the moonlight, torchlight capturing the face of Vale who was kneeling with her back to Z and a dagger at her throat. Z’s hold was professional, causing very little discomfort save the blade and the fact if she released Vale that the Elf would hit the stone bellow and likely die.

“You threw a knife at me! What the fuck?” Aela yelled, her body paralysed as her eyes connected with Vale’s. She winced. Despite the all, pure black eyes Vale had her emotions were always clearly readable to Aela. She saw the terror in Vale’s eyes.

“I was bored” Z shrugged, tightening her hold for a moment in Vale’s hair. The Elf gripped her wrists and whimpered loud enough for Aela to hear. Aela took a step forwards without thinking, freezing as Z’s eyes narrowed in warning.

“Z! Are you fucking crazy?” Aela boomed, hoping someone could come and talk Z down. She knew the woman had no problems with killing Vale, or anyone except Farkas. Aela didn’t understand Z, she pretended to hate Farkas but really she respected him. She wouldn’t call what they had love, but mutual respect and need. Combined with their wolf connection there was no question the two were good together, even though Z fought tooth and nail. Now, Z held Vale on the roof with a dagger to her tender throat. Aela was panicking.

“I believed we had established that already” Z said in such a casual manner Aela almost forgot the situation for a second. She couldn’t deny crazy turned her on, and Z was very much her type. Dark eyes. Oh, Aela loved them. No wolf she had met had such eyes as Z, even after her turning. 

“Please, let her down” Aela began to negotiate, knowing somehow it was what Z wanted. Z smiled, the rush of power she gained from this was intoxicating and she made no secret of it. Aela shuddered at the raw pleasure she saw on Z’s face for a moment before the assassin cocked an eyebrow and looked down.

“It’s quite a fall, but alright” She began to drop Vale.

“No!” Aela leapt forwards, heart in her mouth. She was not sure whether she was relieved or panicked that Z didn’t release Vale.

“Now now, you can’t call /me/ crazy. You put this idea in my head, and I must admit I was wrong. Just killing Vale could be very entertaining. However, since you are held in high regard by myself I’m inspired to be nice. I am offering you the chance to save her. Decide. Whether I kill her, or she accompanies me”

Aela stood, horrified as ever by Z’s words. She tried to find meaning to Vale’s gaze, she tried to look past the tears gathering in her eyes. Z was calm, no longer smiling in her madness as Aela hung her head.

“She goes with you”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Vale yelped as Z shoved her over and down into the water. Z was livid with the ambush of fur clad men shouting “Glory for the Foresworn”. Honestly, who the fuck shouts that when they get stabbed in the gut or when they try to sneak up on you. Z instantly decided these men had absolutely zero intelligence as she carved her way through them to the cave. The roar of a Dragon drew her attention as she drew her blades once more; Vale’s hand closing over hers was enough to bring her attention.

“Don’t” Vale whispered softly. Z only nodded then strode through the cave. By now she was pissed, which was becoming natural to Z. She silently let her body blend in the shadows, the magic in her palm activating as she crouched in a ball of purple and red. She snuck on hands and knees towards the first foresworn. When she reached him she drove her blade through his throat from behind. He gasped and groaned in shock before he fell forwards. Z then rose, throwing two daggers at the remaining foresworn. A flameball narrowly missed the third, then a thrown dagger bounced from the wall and hit the foreworn in the head.

“AHH! Glory to the Foresworn” the briar heart yelled. Z hated that phrase. It was worse than the begging for mercy poorly. It was worse than Farkas been smug. It was worse than going without for god knows how long. It was horrible! 

Z strode forwards, gripping his grimy wrist in her hand as she pulled. Her hand flew to his fur clad shoulder as her right braced against the resistance of a body on her dagger. The gasp that escaped the Foresworn made her bubbly inside, so much so she even twisted the dagger for him to entice more groans of pain and death from her victim. The feeling of a small, hot trickle of blood down her thumb and wrist made her even warmer inside. It was such a nice feeling when her victims bled so softly, very considerate of them. She pulled her dagger free then spun her entire body, slicing the Foresworn’s throat in the action. The rewarding thud of a body greeted her hungrily waiting ears as she sheathed her dagger and continued towards Vale, Esbern and Delphine.

She quickly found her hands wrapped around the soft linen of Esbern’s shirt. She lifted slightly, drawing the light old man onto his toes as she pushed, sending him stumbling but not granting him the fall by keeping her hand tightly around his shirt in one gathered fist, knuckles pale from how hard she gripped.

“You. Didn’t. Help” Z spoke slowly as she shoved the old man into a chair. He went to rise but stopped as Z put her dagger tip against his chest directly on his heart. 

“Z, stop” Vale scolded, unafraid. Z glared at the Elf, forcing her to back away silently. Z then rose, unable and unwilling to combat the annoyance in her system. She then smacked the flat other blade accusingly against Delphine’s leather covered chest. The sight of Z’s blank expression yet glaring eyes with blood trickling down her snowy skin into the midnight armor was enough to scare the bravest soldier, even a blade who had gone through hell and back.

“You were useless. Tell me why I should keep useless objects around” Z questioned sweetly, tapping the dagger slowly. Delphine paled as Z continued to tap, humming to herself for a moment.

“Don’t screw this up” she finally whispered then turned down the hall, feet silent on the creaking wood the others stumbled upon to keep up.

……………………………………………………………………………………

They pushed through cobwebs with soft groans. Z didn’t complain, she simply pushed Delphine through first and followed close on her heels, thus avoiding the punishing, sticky substance of webs and the tiny spider that scurried across Delphine’s nose.

The room within was three stories high to the roof. Once made of fine stone it now housed a few trees, moss coated the stairs and light streamed through broken areas. It was so soft and beautiful Vale audibly gasped eyes wide in joy as she looked around like a child in the castle for the first time. Z silently gestured to Esbern and strode up some stairs, seeing the raised bridge she rolled her eyes. Nothing could be simple. Not once could a bridge be lowered. No. Z had to figure it all out.

/“Whoopdie do”/ she thought bitterly, stunned at herself for her childishness.

Vale scurried up after Z, staring at the stonework instead of the bridge. Her brow creased and her pointed yet gentle face took a look of intense concentration which made her look like a child, not an Elf in her early hundreds.

“There’s something about this stonework” Vale mumbled.

“Looks promising” Delphine commented, guarding Esbern from both the Dragonborn before her. Z was a volatile bundle of rage, despite her coolness. It was truly a Skyrim rage. Vale was a Greybeard apprentice; it was clear when her fighting skills left much to be desired. However Z had planned this perfectly. She had brought someone she held no care for, and the blades needed desperately should Z fall. The crazy woman was brilliant, mental but brilliant. Delphine ground her teeth as Esbern came up.

“Yes. Definitely early Akaviri stonework” Esbern reached the top of the stairs.

“So these pillars are for the bridge?” Vale asked, barely containing her excitement. Oh how Sadean would love this place, the history and power.

“Yes. These are Akaviri symbols. Let’s see… you have the symbol for king, and warrior. And of course the symbol for Dragonborn, that’s the one that appears to have a sort of arrow shape pointing downward at the bottom” Esbern filled in. Z and Vale were already moving however, pushing the heavy stones around with silent straining until the right symbol faced them. The stones were triangle, with three sides and a symbol for each. They were on a axis of some kind yet the bottom remained triangle.

“That did it. The bridge is down” Delphine said in a pleased tone as the bridge settled into place, offering a way across the pit Z could have easily jumped. She strode ahead, ignoring the glares thrown her way. She didn’t care that Vale was a Greybeard apprentice. She didn’t care about Delphine being a blade. She didn’t care about Esbern been a royal know it all. She just wanted to get back to Farkas, even if she had to hate him. He held a bittersweet spell over her, which she couldn’t bring herself to break despite the pain she felt. She also wanted to speak to Kodlak. Despite the few times she had spoken to him she immensely respected the man, enough to allow him to order her. He never did though, he never pushed the boundary. He wanted a family and Z was happy to play her part as the troubled daughter.

Across the bridge the tunnel became thinner, covered in cobwebs from lack of travel. Z instantly drew her dagger but did not falter as she let herself melt into the shadows. She never understood how people couldn’t see her, they just couldn’t. She worked no magic, unless she wanted extra security, she simply stayed where she was comfortable. Z strode up the small stairs then around the corner, aware of how close Vale was to her. She stopped when she saw the ground with several pressure plates with multiple symbols. Vale went to step on one but Z grabbed her arm and pulled her back hard.

“AH! Z you scared me” Vale ended in a mumble. Z smiled, knowing her expression was gentle she willed it to stone, but Vale kept staring at her in confusion. She wondered why Z had actually saved her. The assassin made no secret she disliked Vale because of her mother, but she had never spared Vale pain or possible death until now.

“Pressure plates” Z said simply, then began to walk across them. She blocked everything out as she followed the half square patterns of Dragonborn symbols, across the room to a single pillar with a pull chain. Z pulled it and heard the metal on metal grinding of gears working; she nodded and raised her eyes to the others.

Z strode with ease across the fragile bridge over a huge fall, never bothering to look up or down or so she appeared to the others. Z quickly sized the situation was not indeed dangerous and walked across, laughing inside at the frightened and doubtful noises from her companions. 

The cave walls were so close together Z’s shoulders brushed them as she walked. The assassin felt cramped in the small space, and Vale’s rapid breathing gave away the fear. Z focused on her own heartbeat, willing it to stay level as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Eventually the cave opened up on one side, revealing another plummet should someone misstep. What caught Z’s attention however was the chest in the middle of a room. She then looked up to see the night sky, this ruin opened into open sky, which was a relief for Vale and Z alike. Z noticed two pillars in the mist ahead, looking it was like a pale brown circle of risen dust that never settled or moved. As she walked closer she realised it was rock where the ground had been dirt. Then she stared at a carved stone face. It was more like a mask than a face, with no personality. Then there was a circle in the ground, looking expectant at her arrival. She couldn’t explain how a carving could expect something from her but she felt the pull, then she realised her dagger was drawn. She knew what it expected. Blood.

“Ah.. here’s the “blood seal.” Another of the last Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by… well” Esbern began informing.

“Blood” Z finished for the stumbling old man. He looked nervous of her suddenly, as if she had grown another head. Knowing the notion was foolish Z didn’t bother to pat her shoulders to be sure another limb hadn’t sprouted. Instead she drew another conclusion. This place drew out the Dragonborn within her. She had to admit she was filling into the role, with an entire personality change to boot. She missed her old days, then she remembered she didn’t know how long she spent in prison. Her mind flicked to Tai, the poor boy she had given the nickname too as an Assassin. He would be in his young adult years now, chasing skirts. She had seen something in him, she knew he would stumble and make an ass of himself until he found the perfect woman, the one he would die for. Z flicked her eyelids down in a fast blink to clear the thoughts.

“The blood of Dovah and man. Dragonborn blood” Vale added, her own presence seemed larger here. Vale shuddered at the wanting feeling she felt from the seal. It was hungry, it wanted her blood and it was made of darker magic. Z seemed more relaxed around it, as if she finally knew what the place held so she could let some of her impossibly high guard down.

Z brought her dagger across her palm without warning and knelt, she clenched her fist then unclenched in effort to make herself bleed faster. Vale finally sighed and dropped to her knees on the opposite side of the seal. She lifted Z’s dagger and placed it to her own palm. She was able to draw a line that barely left a mark on her skin before she yelped. Z looked annoyed for a moment.

“You don’t have to” she muttered. Vale swallowed and offered the dagger to Z. the assassin took it but Vale refused to let her withdraw her hand.

“Do that for me. I am Dragonborn and I will rise to the calling, even if I am not as heroic as you” Vale finished her words and Z scoffed.

“Heroic? Hardly. I’m just saving this miserable Oblivion forsaken land so I can butcher your mother”

“Then you could have ignored many things you have not. You try to sell yourself cold Z, but you’re growing a heart” Vale whimpered as Z sliced through her hand swiftly. She gave Vale a warning look before she spoke.

“Damn Farkas”

…………………………………………………………………………………….

 

The Dragonborn and Dovahkin sat opposite each other, stressing their hands to bleed fast enough for the seal. Delphine’s gasp was nothing to the sudden power both the women bleeding felt as they stood back, watching the seal swirl in a brilliant light beneath them. The effort of their combined blood.

“It’s coming alive” The older Blade announced, stating the obvious before flames sat within the torches once more. The golden glow on the face seemed to trigger something before it swung backwards.

“After you, Dragonborn. You should have the honour of entering Sky Temple First” Delphine spoke respectfully as the Dovahkin both strode towards the door, forgetting who led and who followed in the aftermath of the power.

/“Maybe, just maybe. Could Vale be right?”/


	23. Chapter 23 – Kodlak’s Bidding

The moment they arrived back in Whiterun Vale rushed away. She and Vilkas vanished for the day, which only darkened Z’s mood as she walked into the Bannered Mare. The crowd was rowdy, the ale flowing freely which only made Z’s mood sour. As a rule, she rarely drank, instead allowing others to become intoxicated while she kept a crystal clear head. It was now that she most needed booze, but again she was not here to drink. 

Her eyes stayed frozen on the handsome, icy Vilkas as he laughed with the bard. She watched without expression as the bard and Vilkas communicated, their soft touches to the shoulder and throat seemed more than friendly. Z watched how close the men stayed; despite acting like friends they were just too close. The flutter of the male bard’s eyes as Vilkas runs a hand over his shoulder, the hitch in Vilkas’ breath when the bard whispers to him. They laugh as if it’s a good joke which was whispered but the darkness in their eyes was filled with lust, which drives the disconnected rage further into Z’s belly. Vilkas was clearly drunk, and whoring around. This didn’t bide well for Vale.

She slowly got up and walked to Vilkas, knife in hand as she came to his side and allowed him to place his arm around her shoulders in a quick gesture of acknowledgement before returning it to his side. He was cold despite his body heat, something Z understood but never liked. She knew why she and Vilkas clashed so often. Beneath their different lives and genders. Behind the assassin and the layabout dreamy Companion they had become she knew why they hated each other so fully. One reason was they were so alike to each other it wasn’t funny, the other lay in Z’s bed in the Hall waiting for the return of his bondmate.

“Vilkas. Where’s Vale?” she asked with a carefully casual tone, never letting on she knew part of his answer already. The Bard, Mikael, flinched obviously. Z knew her answer then was on the mark. She hated the Bard, he spoke to women as if they were objects to be possessed or conquered. Z didn’t mind a little rough talking in the right place and time but this bard pig just didn’t have any sense. He was utterly disrespectful, which made Z’s dagger itch and her arms twitch with the effort to not sever the tool of his affection in hopes to shut him up. Z let her dagger slide down Vilkas’ side until it rested on his belt buckle. He tensed, obviously ready to do something to remove Z but she beat him to it with a sultry whisper in his ear.

“Now now Vilkas. You know who I am. You don’t stand a chance of surviving if you make a move against me” she then chuckled as Vilkas did his best to relax, wincing each time the dagger tip dragged across his groin. Z let the cloth of his pants be cut, let her dagger tip nick his skin and smile as he tried to contain his reaction of pain. Z simply whispered again.

“if you ever hurt her like this again, I will kill you” and with that she turned away.

“She was in the training yard” Vilkas answered, his voice tight and laced with fear that he tried to control. Z felt intoxicated for a moment before she nodded.

 

She left the Bannered Mare in a silent raging storm of dark intentions and desires. She didn’t show any outward signs, she simply strode with long strides and silent footsteps towards the training ring. She paused as a sight greeted her, one that brought a soft smile to her face.

Vale sat, eyes red from crying and knees to her chest with arms wrapped around them. Aela had her left arm around the little elf, other hand over hers gently at her shins. Moonlight made the Elf’s hair glow, and Aela’s eyes looked as moonlight as Farkas’s for a moment. They were just gazing at each other, loving and shy at the same time. It was adorable, so adorable Z actually smiled. She watched as the Elf finished crying, shyly looking up at Aela as the Nord brushed a strand of Vale’s hair aside. It was then the little Elf moved, lifting her lips to meet Aela’s in a soft, lingering kiss. Z smiled as she watched Aela cup the Elf’s cheek and pull her closer, not demanding but ensuring and cradling. The shadowy assassin respected their privacy and left for her bed, knowing this night was theirs.

………………………………………………………………………………

 

The bed was softer than she remembered, time on the road changed her memory it seemed. The furs were new and fresh, her favourite she noticed. It was a small gesture by her companion, but it was a gesture none the less and Z had no idea how to respond to him. She normally let herself fall asleep, knowing he would come sometime later and lay beside her. Since the bonding Kodlak had insisted they act together as humans as well as wolves, surprisingly. He never took much power in others’ lives but this he somehow continued to push, which Z had to admit wasn’t all that bad. But she wished she could have had freedom. Her regret wasn’t Farkas, but the situation she found herself in.

She silently unclipped her armor, rolling her shoulders when she peeled the leather away from sweaty skin. She felt unclean, the blood that trickled down her body from her fights was horrific, her muscles had begun to change into thickness as well as remaining defined. She was bulking up from wielding weapons in the style of the companions. Her hair had grown longer, too long for an assassin. Her body was no longer marred with horrific scars, merely touched by them. Her hardening look of muscle was subdued by the softening in her eyes, even in her everyday posture. She had originally been proud and tall, demanding and challenging for respect. Now she still stood proud and tall, but there was no demanding respect there. She commanded it without the intention; her confident appearance was that that drew respect like water from a well. 

The thoughts and realisations scared her more than a torture chamber or promise of pain ever could. This was something she was not trained to deal in. She was trained to mimic and plan maliciously to achieve, but she never in her right mind believed she could so openly fall for a man she believed herself to resent. Her feelings for Veezara hadn’t snuck up on her like this. They had everything in common, coupled with a select choice of romantic candidates it was almost expected of her. Of both of them. 

She let her eyes wonder to the heavy form sleeping in the bed, as she pulled off her final boot, secretly triumphant in her silence with such heavily armoured things. She had done amazing work with heavy armor, managing to stealth in most armors that would sound like a kitchen with a rouge cat leaping after a moth and crashing into every pot and pan physically possible.

She let her hands brush the furs as she pulled the covering one slightly away so she could slip under without actually touching or waking Farkas. The furs clung to her, and the grime she hadn’t even bothered to wash off. She had gone days without sleeping, due to her trust issues. Even with Farkas beside her she felt threatened, she kept looking for his hidden knife or poison. Satisfied with her quick, half-assed once over she rolled onto her side and stared at the bar. She was grateful they had gotten a double in there since she came. Kodlak had in fact insisted on it. Her eyes could make out shapes in the darkness, including the lute, which she didn’t even know if Farkas could play. Would he play it if she asked him? She was sharing a bed with a man she barely knew anything about. It hadn’t bothered her in the past, that was the way of assassins but with Farkas it bothered her immensely. 

“Shhh. Stop that busy brain of yours” Farkas whispered, rolling over and wrapping his arm around her gently. Z resisted the urge to melt into his touch, thinking the gesture to weak. Instead she allowed herself to be pulled while remaining somewhat tense. The hand on her abdomen was warm, sending that strange feeling through the simple contact. Her bare shoulders felt Farkas’s chest and shoulders caving around her frame to embrace her, his lips touching the back of her neck in a gentle kiss where his lips didn’t move. He never made an unwelcomed move against her, even one as simple as a kiss on the neck he treated with respectful caution. Z hated how easily he read her body language, and yet how far off he was in interpreting their meaning of her emotions, especially towards him. She didn’t know how to react to the loving gesture he gave so she remained still, tense in his arms. Her brows furrowed with the burden she bore thinking about this. 

“I can hear your brain ticking. What’s wrong?” Farkas asked softly, circling his thumb gently caressing her. Z sucked her stomach in without thought, trying to retreat not from his touch but the joyful sensation she felt at it. Again, Farkas misread it and removed his arm. Z hated the absence, the sudden coolness she felt despite the slight tempreture change. She felt as if she had gone from the hottest desert to being buried beneath the ice. Instead of talking Z took a deep breath and rolled over into Farkas’s arm. She rested her ear hesitantly on his chest, letting half her weight settle for a moment. Once she knew Farkas wasn’t going to reject her motion she let herself relax, letting the full weight of her head rest above his heart. She heard the rapid pounding begin to settle after a while, then she spoke.

“Goodnight, Farkas”

The pounding skipped a beat.

………………………………………………………………………………

 

Aela’s face was grim when Z saw her in the morning, yet there was that glow in her eyes that let on that she was happy. The Companion was good at expressions yet like so many her eyes always spoke to Z. The twinkle in her eye was mischievous yet it didn’t hold the shameful afterglow. After a moment of staring Z was satisfied Aela hadn’t taken advantage of Vale’s weakened emotional state. She still intended to make good on her promise to Vilkas, whom she was very unimpressed with at the moment. Still, the look on Aela’s face wasn’t there for a casual reason and it involved her, Z reasoned as the Nord walked towards her.

“The old man has caught wind of our little revenge scheme” Aela whispered loud enough for Z to hear. The Assassin’s eyes flashed violently for a moment before the rage subsided.

“Indeed” Z kept her breath steady and her voice a whisper of danger. Aela’s eyes widened then narrowed at her as she waited for the extension Z would never give without prompt.

“Is that all you have to say? Indeed!” Aela growled, quieting her voice as she noticed eyes flicking to her. Z didn’t flinch under the gazes, but instead challenged them all until the room isolated the two in another world, one where Z’s word was supreme.

“We should have done this /my way/” Z replied calmly, emphasising my way in such a manner that left nothing to the imagination. Aela cringed before she continued speaking.

“He wants to see you” Aela finished grimly. Z’s eyes widened as a practiced response of surprise. She had suspected that was the nature of Aela’s decision to tell her about being caught out by an aging yet wise old wolf.

“Now?”

“For the tongue lashing I received, yes now would be good” Aela suddenly laughed. Z gave her a mischievous look of her own, which startled Aela as she stared into the midnight blue that suddenly seemed to twinkle like the stars on a clear night.

“I hear no complaint about the lashing Vale dealt you” Z retorted calmly, giving pause to Aela’s laughter as her eyes nearly popped from her head and her jaw fell slack. Z didn’t waste time in jumping to her next dig.

“You may wish to close your trap before your tongue gets dirty. Although, I doubt that will remain an issue for a lengthy amount of time” Z let her eyes sparkle, in truth she wasn’t sure if she could prevent it if she had cared to.

“How do you know?” Aela muttered, cheeks flushing. Z was satisfied with her reaction but didn’t press the issue. Instead, the shadowy woman smiled as she began to walk away, pausing to whisper in Aela’s ear.

“I always know. Know that before you do anything stupid with her. I always know, always watch and I always kill without leaving a trace” then she walked onwards, trying to supress her grin at the sudden paleness of Aela. No one had suspected Z would actually stick up for Vale.

…………………………………………………………………….

“You wanted to see me, Kodlak” Z said simply. She never waited for him to ask her about her knowledge, she simply let herself state the obvious. She watched his weatherworn face soften as his eyes fixed upon her, as if he knew something she didn’t. It bothered Z that Kodlak was so insightful, even into her. She made a living out of being impossible and yet Kodlak picked her apart like a young maiden and figured her out in ways she despised and at the same time loved. It was a family gesture, which Z even among a loving family of the Dark Brotherhood had never actually felt before.

“Yes youngling. Have a seat, Z” he spoke calmly, his voice soft yet firm. He didn’t openly command, but Z felt compelled to sit in the chair he gestured to with an open hand. She obeyed him, feeling the hard wood resist her fleshes presence. She held her dagger up her gauntlet, in case things came to that but even she doubted she could bring herself to kill the old man. Another thing that bothered her.

“I hear you have been busy of late” Kodlak grinned, watching Z with steady eyes. The assassin was not thrown by the subtle accusation.

“Not of late, things have been quiet”

“Things?” Kodlak demanded with an edge to his voice. Z realised behind his wisdom he was angered by her actions. She set her chin proudly and tightened her jaw as she challenged him.

“I work to avenge the death of Skjor” Z said simply. Kodlak’s brow dropped.

“Alone?”

“No. Aela and I work together, but it is my hand that drew all blood. The bastards deserved it” Z stated, hissing at the end with her uncontained fury to emphasise her point of belief. Kodlak nodded sadly, blinking a few tears away which he never allowed to fall.

“You hearts are filled with grief, my own weeps for the loss of Skjor. But his death was avenged long ago, you have taken more lives than honor demanded” Kodlak finished firmly, showing a little of his anger. Z growled and rose swiftly, letting lose her emotions for the first time in ages but directing them into a noble cause.

“Honor be damned!” Z cried, slamming her fist down on the table. Kodlak jumped, as did every bowel, plate and mug upon the table. The walls seemed to shake with her anger, the air almost sizzled and her eyes drew the light to them in their raging darkness.

“They slaughtered him like a dog, and I will have every one of their heads for their insult! No one harms my family and survives. Their friends pay, their associates pay. Even their children pay. They are lucky they still draw breath, and family has only paid in tears for the fallen” Z let her words sink in before she sat down once more, hanging her head and breathing hard as she felt the animal rage inside her. Kodlak seemed genuinely offset by her words, but he soon regained his line of thought and pressed on.

“The cycle of retaliation may continue for some time. It will not only affect you, it will affect all of us. No matter. In any event, I have a task for you. Have you heard the story of how we became werewolves?”

“Skjor said it was a blessing from Hircine” Z said after a moment’s thought. Had he truly believed that, or was he convincing himself? Or was it Aela he had sought to convince?

“Aye. That sounds like him” The two shared a soft chuckle, mainly supplied by Kodlak as Z smiled and let a small sound escape her.

“As is all matters of faith, though, the truth is more complicated than one believer would tell you” Kodlak let himself speak, then fell to silence as he gazed at Z. Z felt the test rising, almost daring her to ask for a truth she may not be able to erase from memory.

“Indeed. So what is the truth?”

“The Companions are almost 5,000 years old. This Beast Blood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good hearted, but short sighted man. He made a bargin with the witches of Glenmori Caoven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power. They did not believe the change would be permanent, the witches offered payment like anyone else. But we had been deceived”

“But you did indeed become more powerful” Z pointed out calmly.

“The witches did not lie, of course. But it is more than just our bodies. The disease, you see, affects more than just our bodies. It seeps into our soul. Upon death, Werewolves are claimed for Hircine and his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity. And that is their choice. But I am still a true Nord. I wish for Sovengard as my spirit home” Kodlak looked sad as he finished, looking down to his golden armored toes. Z felt pity for the man as she began speaking.

“Is there a cure?”

“That is what I have spent my Twilight years trying to find out. The witches magic may release us, but I’ve yet to find the ritual that we could perform. Information is across the seas in Morrowind, but I cannot go”

“Allow me to go then. I traveled Morrowind before, and I can do so again to kill anyone who crosses me”

“Violence should not be necessary, the information lies in a rouge mages hand. A Dark Elf called Brand may know of a cure. Seek him out, and return him to Skyrim unharmed” Kodlak rasped, coughing once as he sipped his water.

“I understand. What is the price for this prisoners release?” Z asked, narrowing her eyes as Kodlak’s widened.

“A few thousand gold I shall provide. How did you know?”

“I know the Elf. An Elf like him didn’t stand a chance, but I couldn’t bring him here without arising suspicion. I had him working with the assassins in Morrowind, if he is caught then things are truly worse than I feared” Z hung her head, biting the inside of her lip for the information she had just given.

“Then take two shield siblings on this journey” Kodlak ordered. Z froze for a moment. Her mind screamed to take Farkas but she rationalised her emotions. Vale had to come, for her own protection. The only one who wanted to protect Vale as much as Z did was Aela, for simular yet very different reasons.

“I shall take Aela and Vale”


	24. Chapter 24 – Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z goes to collect an elf. Z and Aela have some bonding time on the journey home.

Z sighed as the gate was opened, the familiar sight of the elf welcomed her almost straight away. He cowered in the corner like an animal, eyes pinned on his toes as the lines over his near naked body glowed faintly in warning. 

His face had hollowed out unpleasantly, leaving his cheeks empty and hugging his bone structure. His brow stuck out and hung over slit like red eyes, which were wild and untamed. His hair was completely shaved off, revealing several cuts on him from where he fought for his hair. His bones stuck out but his bulk remained intact. He was wide and strong, yet his ribs hollowed out while his arms kept bulk. The accusation stayed in his eyes as Z moved in, not even bothering to hide the weapon she held as he glared at her. He knew her well enough to understand her need for caution around him, she understood it was her fault he was rouge and arrested.

“Z” Finally he spoke, voice rasping and deeper with a dark power contained within. He had grown from a timid elf into an alpha, an animal. Z liked the change but missed his pleasant looks which had become dark and angry.

“Brand” she replied simply, offering her hand to him with that one word. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, Z granting silent permission for Brand to do what he did best and read the thoughts fluttering in her head. He always tried to respect, but he had trouble containing his gift, and much more containing his curse. The worship came back into his eyes as he took her hand, she lifted him up with such ease it shocked all watching the exchange. It was like watching the beautiful woman stand \face to face with a raging bull; Brand was as likely to charge as accept her gesture.

“What took you all that time?” Brand asked softly, looking into Z’s eyes. She didn’t flinch away from his hand on her shoulder as she replied softly.

“A wolf”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Z sat, looking out across the lapping waves of the ocean. So endless and yet chained. She wondered on her own mortality, then let her mind flip to endless again. How would an immortal live so long? Watching those they loved wither and die. Putting up walls to block out everyone, letting tears fall silently as they watched young love from the shadows. The inevitable bitterness and regret. Once more she snapped her thoughts away from this topic. This was a mission, not a time for her to ponder her Werewolf mate. 

Lately she had to admit things between her and Farkas had been good, brilliant even. Not just in bed, or against whatever wall was convenient, but their social side had also balanced out a little more in her head. Z had found herself smiling fondly at memories of the idiot, or running her fingers across his Werewolf bite on her wrist that bound her to him and him to her. She wondered where her mark on Farkas was, considering she had mauled multiple parts of him. She never wanted to admit it but over the last few months she had grown to greatly care for Farkas. She scoffed at herself. How was it avoidable? She was forced to sleep with him every few days to prevent a wolfish outburst. He had insisted on acting more affectionate towards her in his human time as well as their wolfish fits. 

At first he and she had torn each other apart. It wasn’t tender or romantic in any way, it was all about domination. The smashed furniture, the scratches and bites, all the screaming and noise going on into the wolf’s limits and pushing harder. They had not slept together out of affection, rather anger. Now things had changed. They pushed the limits of their wolves, they still scratched and bit each other and drew blood but afterwards they tended each other’s wounds. Z shook her head as she ran her hand across her freshly scratched belly. Farkas had kissed the wounds gently after causing them. What the fuck was wrong with him? What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn’t pin why she felt so warm about him, yet she hated it. There was a small part that wanted it however, but she did what she always did, fought against herself.

 

She hugged one knee to her chest while she let the other dangle over the thin table she sat upon. It was not a dining table, more a corner table. She was staring out the rounded window, feeling the steady rock of the boat as she travelled. She had refused to bring Farkas along, instead asking Aela and Vale on the journey. That faintly bothered her as she pondered. The salt water still flicked into her face, caught in her eyelashes, stunk. She noticed none of this and yet noticed it all.

She heard the creak and footsteps of someone coming up behind her, or rather to her side. She smiled, letting her nose flare once to be sure. The advantage of being a Werewolf was not only the physical but the ability to smell others. She knew why Arnbjorn had been so skilful now; he could track with the mind of a human but the senses of an animal. Now, she had that gift too.

“Aela” She said coolly, almost dismissively. It was her usual emotionless tone. Aela was used to it by now and simply sat down somewhere in Z’s quarters. Z didn’t even move a muscle as the Nord woman shuffled into a comfortable position behind her, chewing on something she believed was an apple. With a quick inhale she smelt it was indeed an apple.

“You’ve been in here for days. Get out more” Aela said bluntly. Z flicked her mouth in a grin but her brow twitched with rage for a moment, more for Aela’s sake than any personal desire to show her irritation.

“Orders now, Aela?” Z smiled inside when the woman didn’t react with anything but a shrug. Aela had grown wise to some of Z’s more subtle attempts at humour.

“You’re moping” Aela again was blunt. Z this time let a half smile touch the right side of her face as some water flicked onto her left. In the grey light Z was ghostly once more yet she held the presence she had developed over the past year or so. Aela was not blind to the allure Z held in this persona, but she was not stupid enough to even mention it. 

“Eyeing me?” Z asked with a smirk, catching Aela’s traveling gaze. She smiled back in response.

“You know that you are attractive, but I am in love with Vale”

“Love” Z mumbled, seeming to question the word over silently in her head. Aela and Z resumed sitting in silence, it was somewhat tense. Both had words on the mind but neither wished to speak them aloud. Instead they bantered about the ships motion; the sailors hitting on them and the stench of the barroom bellow the living decks.

“Is love pain?” Z asked out of nowhere. She was barely aware the words had slipped her mouth in a quiet question. She prayed Aela had not heard, but the shocked motion of Aela silently chocking, the shadow from the candle flickering on the far wall, gave it away that she most certainly had.

“A strange question coming from you” Aela offered an explanation and a statement in her tone. Z found an urge to laugh building in her childish side but her more serious side was ruling. She didn’t even flinch or miss a beat as a rough wave hit the ship. Somehow she stayed still as stone as she gave into the questions she was asking.

“You have Vale. Many say love is pain. Is this true?” 

“Love is love. Pain is pain. Love is what it is. I assume anyway. Ask Vilkas and he’ll write you a poem about how dark and painful love is” Aela shrugged, Z let the chuckle escape her before she became serious again.

“Missing Farkas?” Aela asked more seriously. She was shocked when Z did not snap or suddenly vanish, simply let out a heavy sigh.

“Indeed” Z dismissed. Aela chuckled, knowing Z was now bluffing. The woman had become frighteningly good at reading Z.

“I believe I do” Z surrendered her answer finally, casting her eyes towards Aela, looking for the answer to her question. She was amused by Aela’s shock at her line of questioning, although she herself was gravely confused.

“Well. Love just is. It’s what happens around love that defines it, so some say. Speaking about love… I left Vale naked in our cabin” Aela rose from the chair and began walking towards the door. 

“Wait” Z started, drawing Aela’s attention.

“Is it worth it?” Z finally let the question escape her lips. Aela smirked, unknown to Z as she contemplated what to say. She was sure Z knew the answer; she was simply looking for solidity. With a smile Aela gave the answer she knew would set Z’s teeth on edge. The chance to get her mysterious friend back was too much to pass. 

Aela spoke just one word.

“Indeed”


	25. Chapter 25 - Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z reaches a crossroads with her emotions when hunting down Hagravens with Farkas.

“This is the legendary hall of the Companions?” Brand asked softly, clearly unimpressed. Z grinned at her friend and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. Z had managed to find a cream coloured linen shirt that fitted his large frame along with a leather belted vest. Finding him pants had also been reasonably easy, although the sack pants hung above his ankles. Finding shoes had been impossible, which was the reason behind his bare feet.

“I always thought the roof looked like a ship” Z admitted, watching the twinkle in the scarred Elf’s eyes brighten to rival the flames before he returned to a serious demeanour. The way he looked at her was unnerving, but Z didn’t allow him to see its effect. She knew he could look into her thoughts and memories, she also knew he was with the look he bore. But he couldn’t remember how she felt during those times. She was vulnerable, but not completely at his mercy.

“You’re afraid” It was not a question.

“Of what? You?” Z almost laughed at his balls to accuse her of fear. She thought mainly of her horse as she reasoned with herself, to throw Brand’s mind reading trick off. Within, was she afraid? No. She was not afraid of anything or anyone… except the one who had lowered her to softness and snuggling. The one who tended the wounds he caused on her body. The one who understood her without even knowing it. She was afraid of him. But was it of him, or hurting him? 

“He loves you. You are allowed to feel afraid of something so powerful that you cannot control. I would fear that level of dependence as well” Brand sounded almost jealous. Z gazed into his eyes, reading the love within them for yet another time. It was not that of a lover’s love, but that of a priest for the love of his god. Brand admired her, and he considered Farkas unworthy. 

“I can help you eradicate it though, should you ask” Brand added, cracking his knuckles as he did so.

“No” Z said slowly, now glaring straight into Brand’s eyes. Her eyes never left his but the gasp from behind her indicated his hands were beginning to blaze with those flaming orange vein like lines that indicated the curse getting a grasp on his mind. She saw his eye socket begin to change as she took a stride forwards, hand instantly on her dagger before she pulled it half lose so the blade caught the sunshine, she twisted it so the shine danced across Brand’s face.

“Do you really want to go there?” she asked gently, leaving the shine directly on Brand’s throat to indicate her point.

Brand shook his head, averting his eyes from the fire that burned within Z’s. She almost dared him to say something against Farkas, the wolf that she struggled not to love. He was all over her mind, an infection almost. Brand didn’t raise his eyes as the breath came close to his ear, the purr of an assassin rung bittersweetly in his ear.

“If you touch him, I will tear you to pieces. Cursed or not” Z then walked to the door, turning her back to add to the insult. She then rested her hand against the door, using the other to begin ushering Brand through, not caring that Aela and Vale were staring at her with mouths wide open. It seemed they had heard what she said.

“To the left, down the stairs then right straight to the end. Kodlak will see you shortly” Z pushed the door open.

………………………………………………………………………………

 

Z kept her eyes to the ground as she faded into the shadows; never letting her eyes roam the figures in the room who she wished would just leave her to her thoughts. Overwhelmed was something Z had never truly experienced. Neither was surprise. Therefore, when the overwhelming emotion crept up on her with no warning signs what so ever Z was naturally shocked. Mixing two new experiences with a new intense emotion.

She closed one hand in a fist, then rested her other hand over the top and squeezed. Her knuckles went white and her muscles began to shake, which would make her more easily spotted if she had been truly hunting instead of hiding away from someone she was longing to see, and yet never wanted to know existed. She swallowed the fire in her throat, feeling the pain emanating through her chest. She knew she had swallowed an air bubble or something like that to cause such pain but she still winced and raised a hand to her collarbone. She coughed softly, almost silently, before she got up and pushed the door open to the training yard.

The air was cool, which naturally made her shiver. She kept her leather clad hands clamped around one another as she stared up into the sky, watching the stars that made the Shadow twinkle brightly. She felt the sadness as she moved her eyes down to the ground, reflecting upon her family once more. She didn’t know how the tears started but she felt them running down her cheeks, hot streams that left her skin flushed in little streaks. One thing Z had learned was that when she cried, which was so rare years could pass before she felt any emotion strong enough to draw them from her, that it was impossible to hide. Her pale skin would go bright where her tears had run, which stood out for a while after she finished.

“Hey” The soft voice reached her ears one instant before she violently turned her head away, clenching her jaw. Too many emotions coursed through her for her to begin to identify them, but she would die before she let herself be seen as completely weak.

“It’s alright” The voice was closer to her now; she could even feel the body heat right beside her. Z didn’t need to look at Farkas to know his face would be a mask of concern and confusion, yet he would also be there with the look of support. She knew his arm was around her shoulders without touching her, offering the warmth he had to give.

“Please. Walk away” Z whispered, trying to reflect everything into her words. Farkas would be in a head spin now. Should he obey her obvious wish or violate it. He chose the latter as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his chest. Z fought her urge to push him away, and the other urge to cling and just rested there. 

The shirt was rough beneath her hands; the dust from training still clung. She pulled away, but Farkas pulled her back subtly. Z found herself frozen again as her cold nose touched his warm skin. She sighed softly at the warmth, noticing how Farkas tensed momentarily. He smelt of metal and sweat mixed with wet leather. Normally Z would screw her nose up at such smells but there was an element of it that was Farkas. She didn’t flinch or screw her nose up; she just let her head fall limply against his chest as the sobs wrecked her body. She felt his arms around her, one slipped beneath her knees before he lifted. Z naturally tensed and held her body ridged for a moment before she relaxed into his hold.

“Farkas…” she started but froze. She didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. She knew what should be said and yet it didn’t seem to fit. Nothing seemed to fit what she was always taught.

“I don’t know how” she finished lamely. She never saw the small smile on Farkas’ face as if he had won some huge victory.

“I know”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Farkas and Z travelled in silence, only speaking when it was required. Z could tell Farkas’ view of her was extremely shaken after the night of her tears, but she couldn’t tell if it was for better or worse. She found herself standing at the crossroad she always found in her life, yet for the first time she did not stride with confidence down one path. She could see one road, the one she normally took, would lead to Farkas leaving and her once more continuing into the darkness and murder that had been her childhood. The other was foggy, she had no idea what would happen other than it would be an extreme change. She didn’t even know what kind of change. A change for good or ill? 

They had been told to retrieve the Witch’s heads, or at least one. With a look to each other, they had smiled then looked back to Kodlak and Brand. No words had been spoken but they knew Z’s bloodthirsty smile when they saw them. Farkas however had been amused. Like he knew something Z didn’t. That bothered her.

They stopped before the cave, staring into the depths as Farkas looked at Z with that smile that got beneath her skin.

“After you” he whispered quietly. Z flashed him a strange expression he had never seen in full light before. After a startled moment, he realised what it was. Pain.

“I’m not going to stab you in the back” Z whispered, not snapping or defensive. It sounded almost defeated. Farkas nodded, gesturing silently before the look in Z’s eyes drew the words from his mouth.

“Ladies first”

“Of course. I apologise for my outburst” Z muttered, walking into the cave with a very confused Farkas in tow. He couldn’t help his own outburst as he reached towards her and gripped her by the arm furiously. He spun her around as they stood in the cave, walking towards another chamber.

“I’m worried for you, Z. What’s going on?” his voice was gentle as he stared into the deep blue eyes that froze him to the core. He had never seen such emotions in her eyes. If each was a star they could fill the darkest sky with light, yet they did not make her eyes any softer. If anything the pain stood out, as did fear. She flicked her eyes to the side as she spoke.

“Farkas, I… Get down!” She switched from her emotional to the assassin in a split second as she pushed him away from her and ducked her own head. Farkas groaned as he flew back, straight into a smaller cave with a single chest within.

“You blood is ours, Companion!” A hagged voice came that set Farkas’ senses aflame with fury.

He watched as Z faced off with the returning hag raven, once a woman now a mixed beast which was so hideous Farkas averted his eyes. With time they grew uglier, so this one must be very old, he reasoned well over 400 years.

“Come get it then” Z challenged, standing tall with her dagger drawn. The Hagraven came closer, hissing as it did so. Farkas expected Z to strike, or the raven to but neither did. They stared at each other, completely engrossed in each other’s eyes.

“One of the five” it hissed at Z, which shocked Z more than it should have. Her eyes widened and her stance loosened. It was Farkas who leaned out to pull her away from the incoming blow. She didn’t glare and complain; she simply kept a relaxed expression as she threw her dagger at the large spider coming from her side. When that didn’t stop it, she grunted then looked to the rocks above the Raven’s head.

“Fus Ro Dah!” she cried. Everything that came next was a blur. She collapsed back into him, completely out of it as the Hagraven cast a spell at her. The dust fell across his sight of the foul witch as the rumbling grew louder. He heard the shrieks as rocks fell, but he could not see. All he knew was Z was unconscious in his arms, and rocks continued falling.

………………………………………………………………………

“Ugh” Z moaned weakly, signalling her return to the world of the living. She felt the stiffness through her body; she also felt the callused fingertips brushing her hair aside tenderly. She let herself become lost in the gesture, feeling sparks dance beneath her skin as Farkas rested his hand over her forehead softly.

“Welcome back” he spoke quietly, tensely even Z noticed. Things felt strange; obviously she had been hit by the falling rocks after her shout. She groaned again, trying to decode the feelings running through her like the blood through her veins. She wanted to talk, needed to even. She had to explain and Farkas had to understand. There was no alternative.

“We need to talk” she whispered. She closed her eyes in the darkness, accepting that she had taken that first step. She was risking it all here. This was the road she could not turn from once she started down it. This was where she would gain everything or lose herself. She was not just risking her life, mind, body and soul. She was risking her heart.

“There’s no better time” Farkas chuckled, obviously nervous with their situation. Z depicted his eyes in the shadows, shining like the stars were trapped within them. She cursed how his eyes saw through her, but for the first time she did not retreat. She held his gaze, despite the flush she felt raging up from her chest to her cheeks. She did not resist the small gasp that worked its way free as she spoke.

“I don’t know how” she sighed, expecting Farkas to cut her off. When he did not she continued.

“I don’t know how to talk, to truly share. I have been trained not to for my entire life. I am an immaculate assassin, the perfect killer but I am far from being human” She hung her head, waiting for Farkas to talk. He did not; he simply placed his hand on her shoulder gently and waited. It was infuriating yet sweet at the same time. Z could have killed this foolish man without a second thought, but she could not be without him. How could she put it into words?

“For an assassin to trust is to welcome death, betrayal… pain” Z let her voice become colder as she struggled to find the words she wished to find. Farkas’ hand left her shoulder slowly, but Z knew the emotion he felt. It bounced from the walls and seeped into her being. It clutched her heart yet it was a close companion, a weapon she wielded. Defeat.

“I wish you could be in my head right now. Read my mind. I wish…” She shook her head, trailing off for a moment before she acted. 

Her hands reached into the darkness, both of uncertainty and literal lack of light. She almost smiled as she felt the rough, warm cheeks of Farkas between her palms. She pulled him closer, slowly, letting every small motion and sensation settle into her being. The way his breathing hitched as she got close enough to feel the breath he didn’t take. She let her thumb brush the corner of his mouth, savouring the soft yet scarred texture. She let her arm slide from the stubble to the stringy hair. She was so close she could feel his breath mingling with hers.

“Read my mind” she whispered. It something between a prayer and open begging. Her words couldn’t make it true, but for a moment she deceived herself to believe. She then let herself close the distance, eyes closed tight as if she was diving into the fire. She felt the burning sensation that brought something else to life before she slowed herself down. The kiss she gave him was deep but there was no heat. Passion burned within them both but neither let themselves fade to temptation, holding back to show something else that Z couldn’t put into words.

“How can I put that into words?” She whispered, trailing her hands down to his chest as she leaned into him. Only his eyes were obvious if Z had opened hers. She held them closed, trying to resist the desperate tears working their way free.

“I love you” Farkas whispered back, his own voice tender. Z opened her eyes and looked him in the eye, feeling the hot trails running down her cheeks.

“You cannot. It will only hurt you. Love is death. I can’t be the cause of your suffering” she began to pull away but again Farkas held her to him. There was an invitation in his gesture, pleading and longing mixed with respect and space. Z couldn’t figure it out, or why she leaned into him as he whispered again.

“I love you” the simple words took her breath away, despite she had drawn the words from many before. She closed her eyes again, fighting the rising anxiety of her choice that began its assault in the deep vaults of her mind. She was standing at the crossroad now, with no choice but to choose a path. She could not back down from this; it was the mammoth in the room that would never leave without a push. She had to step down one of the roads surrounding her, or travel back the way she had come.

“I love you too” she had chosen the road to walk down. It was forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I missed a HUGE chance for some awesome magical fighting and so forwards here, and in many places, but I decided to go with the emotional crap for some reason. If someone learns time travel, go back to my past self and kick her up the ass.


	26. Chapter 26 – The Prince of Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z acts upon a more spiteful urge, leading her to the Prince of Madness himself. Sheogorath.

The journey to Solitude took time, how much Z had no idea. By the time she arrived, the guards were snickering like schoolgirls as they tried to contain their glee at some event just beyond the gates.

“Hold Traveller, you’re here just in time to witness the main event” One guard said boldly, with other guards snickering behind him. Z looked at them through the hood of her cloak, trying to hold the distain from her facial features as well as her voice.

“Being?” She asked simply, not bothering to add dramatics to her tone. She watched the guards burst into another bout of rowdy laughter before they replied.

“The execution, what else?” They asked in genuine shock that Z didn’t know. If the air could grow chillier with a glance then Z’s blank facial features and dark eyes made the snows fall on Solitude’s guards that day. She didn’t speak, nor move a muscle. She simply stood there, eyes boring through the guard standing before her to the gate. The laughter fell silent and their smiling faces turned sombre. The echoes of disgust waved from Z, sweeping over the guards as they moved to the gate and opened them for the stranger in the cloak. Z tipped her head in a silent gesture of acknowledgement before she continued onwards.

She let herself fade into the cheering crowd the moment she got in the gate, creeping closer to the platform without even looking. Her feet paced the well-trodden path as if she had been born to it; her movements were that of the shadows. Her shoulders tilted ever so slightly so she did not touch a soul among that crowd, only leaving them with ghosting sensations as she continued onwards.

“There was no murder!” She heard the man who’s death this was to be deny. He defended his actions, which Z wasn’t shocked by. She was shocked when she heard it was letting Ulfric Stormcloak in and out, as he would with any traveller. The moment she heard this, her motives changed from simply watching to something far more sinister. She hated the Imperials. They had killed her family. They were the dagger Vale had shoved into her back. Now, she was going to strike back, one little mark at a time.

She placed her hands around two daggers she had stored for throwing. The way she burned through Iron daggers it was amazing she didn’t own a smithy herself. She made most of them herself, adding and subtracting from the original design so they would fly further, spin faster and burry themselves deeper in the flesh of an enemy. She had made then teethed backwards, meaning to go in easily but tear and maim as they came out. She couldn’t help enjoy this, it was in her nature. The metal was reassuring in her palms as her eyes connected with the man accused. Roggvir, she had learned his name was when a girl cried for her uncle. He had a large nose, and blue eyes as far as she could tell. His hair was a reddish blonde, his frame fine as if he had been in a confined space too long. He had that look about him, it was one Z understood. 

She gave him a nod then vanished into the crowd again. She rushed through the first building she found which was open, a store of some kind, and darted up the stairs. She crept out the window onto the roof, almost wincing as the sun beat down on her back and the wind tugged at her cloak. She stood calmly staring down, hands around two throwing daggers she was longing to set free into flight before they gave themselves to her task. On the outside she was serene, as always, but her mind recited everything she had learned, like always. She prayed. Just like always.

“Nightmother. / I pray that my dagger strike true. My heart be black as the void of the soul I send to you. Should I fail in my task I am the payment for my penance. Guide my heart, Sweet Nightmother that I should not stray. Guide my hand, Sweet Mother that my soul may sing in your bloodshed. That I may be your child to bathe the sins of the unworthy in blood and fear. I fear not the void, I embrace it/” Z only whispered her name before her thoughts took over. She did not care for what others thought of her prayer, it simply was. She stood and waited, never once shaken by the arguments unfolding in the square bellow. She simply kept her hands relaxed around the daggers, but the rest of her body was held in her strange state between completely relaxed and ready to react at a breaths notice.  
“/Go, child. Kill./” The voice was there a split second before Z acted and threw her daggers overhand straight down from the roof at the executioner.

She didn’t let the inner smirk reach her lips as the crowd went from accusing Roggvir to squealing like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Every one of them was pathetic in Z’s eyes. Following the Imperials and executing a man for following the ancient laws, which she was now bound by. By now two more daggers had buried themselves in the thigh of the Captain of the Guard. She wasn’t about to kill that man, knowing he was kind at heart but misled. She tied a rope around a spike on the roof and leapt down to the street, holding the rope as she flipped and landed on the platform. Instantly she tied the ankle of the guard Captain and drew The Blade of Woe.

“Roggvir?” She demanded, pretending she needed the answer for the man’s sake. He looked up from the block in shock. She had seen fear etched on his face and his eyes squeezed shut, but he had not flinched further. 

“Yes” he answered cautiously. Z grabbed him by his bony arm, feeling the skin flapping away suggesting he had once had more weight on his body. She was able to hoist him to his feet and slice the bindings on his hands before she leapt around him and threw The Blade of Woe into an oncoming Guard’s shoulder.

“Follow me” She ordered simply. She leapt forwards, landing on the injured guard before she rolled over her shoulders into a crouch, Blade of Woe in her left hand and Astrid in her right. She stayed there for a moment as the crowds scurried away from her as if she were on fire. The flames in her eyes subsided only for a moment as she looked to the startled guard with both his shoulders stabbed. Then her eyes flicked to the prisoner before she snarled.

“And stick close”

“Aye. Follow you, stick close” Roggvir seemed to break from his paralysis and leapt down after Z, albeit with much less grace and many fluent curses. Z caught him with an arm as he went to kick the guard, her face now ablaze with fury as her lips curled back. It was fortunate no one could see her face.

“No” She demanded, scolded and growled all in one, horrific sound. Roggvir didn’t even question the being who grabbed him, he simply followed this remarkable person towards what he hoped was safety.

Z didn’t remember the streets and changes, but she knew the one way out was into the belly of the beast. She had not prepared an escape, and now ran like an animal hunted by a pack of wolves to their den. She however was raised among wolves, befriended by foxes and trained by the Ox. She would not be defeated in this city where everything about her stable life had diminished.

“Master’s hip bone. You’ll need master’s hip bone” A strange man came up to her and thrust an old, dusty bone at her. Without thinking Z took it and continued running, eyeing the shadows for a place to allow the fading Roggvir to catch his breath. She never noticed the smile on that strangers face, nor heard his whispers. If she had, she may have afforded the time to stop.

Instead she hid in the shadows, Astrid drawn and reversed so the blade ran down her forearm. Looking at her you would not notice she held a dagger, which made her the most deadly person in the city at that point in time. Her eyes were pinned on an old Nobleman hobbling down the street. It was now Roggvir’s shot to gasp at the intent of his protector.

“No! He’s an old man for Talos’ sake!” his objections fell upon deaf ears. Z fought the normal instinct to ignore him and go for the kill.

“He’s old, lived his life. The guards, they are misguided. It’s the Imperials that need to suffer. It’s a shame that one more soul must pay for their crimes” Z took a step forwards before she felt the bony hand around her arm again, forcefully.

 

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded. Z’s eyes flashed, as did the marks up her arm. Roggvir flinched back away from the intense flash of white that no one noticed in the bright street. He saw her eyes from beneath her hood, with a lock of dark hair falling down over her nose and lips. The white of her eyes even seemed to glow as she hissed her answer.

“For revenge”

……………………………………………………………………………..

 

She was soundless as she picked the lock, watching Roggvir tense and pull at the collar of the old noble’s clothing. Z had won that argument and managed to kill the old man, rather painlessly actually, and then force Roggvir to put the clothes on. She never groaned about how obvious he was been as she pushed the door open and pulled Roggvir in. 

“I can’t believe you brought me to the palace” he accused her in a hushed whisper. Z rolled her eyes as she pushed her hood down. She let the old light catch her face as she looked at him, hoping her expression was blankly angry enough to intimidate him.

“Y…you’re a woman!” he stuttered in disbelief. Z kept her eyes on him as she walked to the table and lifted it, cursing the fact she couldn’t use her shouts to make things easier. She walked to the door and placed the table against it, securing the door shut before she began to walk into the cobwebbed halls that looked like they hadn’t been touched for hundreds of years.

“Thank you for stating the obvious” Z muttered, expecting Roggvir to object at any moment. To object he would have to keep up with her however. That was her goal. She smirked as she heard the pattering of running feet coming after her; Roggvir was many things but dumb was most likely not one of them.

“This place looks abandoned” He stated the obvious again. His eyes were nervous and wide, flicking to every single shadow as he almost clung to the assassin he followed.

“Wait here” Z warned, every hair on her body bristled as she spun the dagger in her hand. She slunk down the halls like a Sabre Cat, eyes scanning in slow, sweeping movements that did not translate to the rest of her body... She rounded a corner, swishing the cobwebs aside with her dagger before she felt herself falling. 

 

…………………………………………………….

 

She looked down at the muddy grass beneath her hands and body with only a hint of shock. The world smelt like magic, the air was cold like madness. She couldn’t identify what made her feel so at home here, but she was not in the slightest concerned for her safety. She looked down at her feet and frowned. She did not have a stitch of clothing on. Her hair was flowing loose in the unnatural breeze. She simply began walking forwards; waiting for the sign she could stop.

“Oh I couldn’t. it goes right through me. Besides, I have so many things to do…” a flat, deep male voice spoke. Z could taste the weight in that voice that she knew long dead. It peaked her interest enough she began walking towards it.

“So many undesirables to contend with. Naysayers. Buffoons. Detractors. Why, my headsman hasn’t slept in three days!” The voice continued.

“You are far too hard on yourself, my dear, sweet, homicidally insane Pelaguis. What would the people do without you? Dance? Sing? Smile? Haha, grow old? You are the best Septim that ever ruled. Well, except that Martin fellow but he turned into a dragon god. That’s hardly sporting. You know, I was there for that whole sordid thing. Marvellous time. Butterflies, blood, a fox, a severed head, ho. Ohho, and the cheese, to die for” a second voice sung. It was insanity transformed into sound. Z felt pulled towards it almost instantly.

“Yes. As you have said countless times before” the other man spoke in his bored tone.

“I-humph-ah-mph. Well. If you’re going to be like that I think its best I take my leave. Good day sir. I said Good day!” the other, cheerful insane voice spoke up. Z’s eyes caught a flash of purple around the more sullen figure as she walked into view. It was the other one that caught her attention however.

He was aged, that much was obvious with his silver hair. Some wrinkles spaced the landscape of his forehead, into the fine bridge of his pointed, hawklike nose. Z could not tell where his chin ended and his pointed beard began. What caught her attention however were his golden eyes, penetrating and insane with a light that Z could only name as adorable and friendly. Despite everything childish and insane however there was a majesty and wisdom no mortal could hope to possess. Half his outfit was purple, the other red. It took a few seconds for everything to click in Z’s mind.

“How rude! Can’t be bothered to host a friend for a decade or two” The remaining man sulked.

“Sheogorath, I take it” Z arched her brow at the peculiar man she felt power emanating from. She felt a kinship with this being that she had not felt in a long, long time.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag. Who puts cats in bags? Cats /HATE/ bags!”

“They hate water too. However, I was given this hipbone and I believe it is a message to return to your own realm”

“Was it Malog? No… Little Tim, the toymakers son? The Ghost of King Lysandus? Or was it… yes! Stanley! That talking Grapefruit from Passwall. Hahaha, wrong on all accounts aren’t I? Oh well. Don’t tell me. Why ruin the surprise? But more to the point, do you – tiny, puny, expendable mortal – actually think you can convince me to leave?” Sheogorath stood up to his full height, which matched Z’s. She didn’t feel intimidated by the crazy being before her. She even let him know that with her own twisted smile.

“I would never be so... inconsiderate” Z answered carefully, never nervously but with the proper consideration. Sheogorath looked pleased.

“Because that’s crazy! You do realize who you’re dealing with here?”

“Sheogorath. Deadric prince of madness. God of Insanity. You will leave, won’t you?”

“Now that’s the real question here, isn’t it? After all, how much time off could a demented Deadra need? So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to leave. That’s right! I’m done. Holiday… complete. Time to return to the hum drum day-to-day. On one condition… You have to find the way out. Haha, good luck with that”

“What’s the catch?” Z asked slowly, watching the golden eyes with her own scrutiny. She saw shock and amusement flash within the gold before the voice was freed.

“Ha! I do love it when the mortals know they are being manipulated. Makes things more interesting. Care to look around? This is not, I dare say, The Solitude Botanical Gardens. Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are?” Sheogorath asked, mischief brewing in his expression. Z thought for a moment then swallowed. Now she was hesitant.

“I have a suspicion I do. Pelagius’ mind”

“That’s right! You’re in the head of a dead, homicidally insane monarch”

“Well. Isn’t that lovely?” Z asked sarcastically. Meanwhile her own mind was racing. How the heck would she get herself out of this mess?


	27. Chapter 27 – Not One Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z deals with the Prince of Madness, then returns to a scene far worse than she ever could have predicted.

The first challenge had been interesting. There was no real order to the three challenges Z was given, she had simply followed one path to see a giant beating up a little man the size of her finger. Armed with the crazy staff, Wabbajack and dressed in nobles clothing with an off centre fur hat Z had hit the giant and little man and any who came nearby until the little man was the same size as the giant. Then she had walked away as Sheogorath cooed over her intellect.

She ignored most of his chattering as she walked down the next path, feeling the fog biting at her bare ankles and feet. Sheogorath may have been the Deadric Prince of Madness but he couldn’t for the immortal life of him get Z’s shoe size right. He even seemed to enjoy getting the sizes wrong just to see Z’s sarcastic eye roll and hear her irritated sigh.

“You’re headed down the path of dreams. Unfortunately, for you, Pelagius suffered night terrors from a young age. So, all you need to do is find a way to wake poor Pelagius up. You’ll find his terrors easy to repel… but persistent” Sheogorath spoke with his usual chirpy accent that Z found strangely relaxing. She couldn’t help grin as she walked into the forest clearing and took the confident strides to the middle.

Upon the middle of the ground was white marble tiles, with a high quality imperial rug over the top and a bed set upon that. Sprawled out across the large double bed was a young man, a younger version of Pelagius. Z took a moment to consider the former king, knowing his homicidal reputation but never knowing the man behind the title.

He had white blonde hair, which was pulled back into a tight tail. She could see the strain on his head from the pull of his hair, trying to hide the premature wrinkles and crevices from his deep set worrying and paranoia. His mouth seemed a constant frowning line, heavier than it should have been at his youthful age. 

Z was above pity, she had been trained not to feel it. Even she felt a little pang for the man before her, lying in his nightmares that she would have to end somehow. There was no peace for him, even after death. She couldn’t help relate to this man, even though she couldn’t find the reasons within herself. This frightened her, being unable to see her reasoning. It frightened her more so than being relatable to a homicidal, dead monarch.

She wasn’t so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the wolf charging at them. She lashed out with the staff in her hands, feeling the jolt of power as she heard the wolf yelp in pain. It hit the floor and transformed into a goat, which continued about grazing the dirt as if it were the most luscious grass in all the planes of Oblivion.

She ducked instinctively, feeling the rush of air over her head that indicated how close the bandit’s axe had come. She threw her staff up, catching the axe as it came downwards. She pulled the staff forwards, catching it under the hook of the axe blade before she wrenched it left, disarming the bandit in the process. She continued with the momentum and whacked the bandit in the chest with the magical end of Wabbajack. The bandit transformed into a little boy and rushed off to pester the goat.

A Hagraven scratched for the boy, but Z thrust her staff forwards into the Hagraven’s leg and caused her to fall. The Hagraven transformed into a beautiful blonde maid who was carrying a tray of berries that the boy rushed for, leaving the goat to trot off and hide.

Z lashed at the next flash she saw, not even noticing what she hit before it transformed into a large, welcoming campfire.

She didn’t have to wait before she felt her neck bristle. She turned and lashed out, seeing the dragon priest for a mere second before Wabbajack’s curse hit it square in the chest and transformed it into exactly that. A chest. A large wooden chest near the campfire.

She watched the sleeping man wake up and walk away, completely oblivious to her presence. She smirked as she watched him, weighing up the way his shoulders slumped and his stride was sluggish. She stopped smirking as she realised the weight upon his shoulders, even if he was but an echo. 

“Well now, that’s something to crow about. With Pelagius up and about you’re moving along. We’ll both be home in no time” Sheogorath appeared at the entrance, clapping gleefully as Z walked towards him with her now sombre expression.

“I never crow until the job is done and evidence destroyed” she replied in a serious tone. She knew how much of a serious heart she could be, and she wanted it to be true in the realm of madness. She took insanity very seriously.

“Well now, aren’t you the uptight sort. Alternatively, is it downloose? I forget which” Sheogorath retorted, followed by his barking laugh which made Z grin inside. Outside however she was stone, traveling down the third, darkest path of the three she had been given to travel. The third, darkest task lay ahead, or so Z’s logic dictated.

“Oh good choice! Well, good for me. I find everybody being out to get you so terribly entertaining. You might find it… less so” Sheogorath’s voice rung. Z actually smiled at this and turned her head to look at the old apparition of Sheogorath following her. She was positive it was only an illusion. She had no doubt that he knew who and what she was, and had acted accordingly to defend himself against any attack she could conjure with the weapons provided.

“My lord, we finally agree on something” She tilted her head in a respectful nod as she spoke. She didn’t even laugh when the strange man did a happy dance.

“Splendid! I hate indecision! … or maybe I don’t. Well, make up your mind. Or I’ll have your skin made into a hat. Maybe one of those arrowcatchers. I love those hats!”

“That is rather off topic, to a sane person. Personally I would prefer a quiver”

“Well now… onto the topic at hand. You see, Pelagius’ mother was… well, let’s say “unique.” Although, in the grand scheme of things she was fairly average for a Septim. That woman wielded fear like a cleaver… or did she wield a cleaver and make people afraid? I never get that part right” Sheogorath continued to mutter as Z strode up the old yet clean stone stairs to one side of a stone arena. Within two elemental beasts fought.

“Oh, but she taught her son well. Pelagius learned at a very young age that danger could come from anywhere. At any time. Delivered… by anyone” something about the way Sheogorath timed that final line drew Z’s attention. There was a trick here that he didn’t expect her to figure out. Obviously, no one had before.

Z pondered for a moment, staring across the pit at her opponent.

The pit itself was designed to cage the two creatures. The stones bore scars she assumed was from former mortals using Wabbajack at the creatures. She took stock of the skeletons around and smirked to herself. The beasts in the pit were distractions. Weapons for their wielders. A weapon being attacked did nothing… however if the wielder was attacked.

Z shot Wabbajack at the guards of her enemy and grinned as she watched the guards scream and turn into wolves. She never flinched from the screams as the wolves tore the enemy apart, limb from limb until they fell into the pit. In that pit the elemental’s finished them all off, leaving Z standing looking into a pit of death. She felt at home.

“Oho! I thought you’d never figure it out. I should have known you would have. After all, you’ve figured every other one out! Oho this is marvellous!” Sheogorath continued to chatter as Z fell to her knees, painfully aware of the pain in her head and her slowly blackening vision. Her final vision was of the man who had handed her the hipbone appearing before Sheogorath and staring at her.

“You…” she started to speak but never finished as her cheek hit the dirt and she slipped into the realm of dreams.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

When Z awoke her mouth felt dry, as if she had bitten a pillow. Her right cheek was numb from resting on her hand for a lengthy period of time. There was a familiar, uncomfortable knot in her bladder signally her need to empty her body once again. Nature was an undeniable call that even the mightiest assassin had to give into. She was in her normal gear once again, a fact she was ever thankful for. She also knew she was in a place few mortals had ever seen. The power was delicious and deadly. 

Z could feel the hairs on the back of her neck and arms sticking up as if electrocuted. She could feel her blood pumping yet her heart never sped up a single beat. The darkness did not in any way affect her vision. She could taste the power in the air, chalky and hot on her tongue. Her nose was filled with the strange scent that was scentless of any scent of her world. She felt at home.

She quickly got to her feet, noticing how she was surrounded by candles in a large circle that could have housed a giant, yet it only surrounded her. When on her feet she looked down to the ground, instantly shocked to discover a reflective surface like water. She took a hesitant step, never losing her confidence yet option for caution. The ground pulsed around the ball of her foot as she placed it to the strange ground.

She quickly strode across the circle to an edge and stared at the candle. She knelt before it and squinted, seeing no reflection on the outside of the circle as she did within. She pushed the candle with a single finger cautiously until she had pushed it an entire finger length. She watched the candle fall slowly downwards without tipping over. She blinked a few times then reached over for the candle.

She felt the pressure close around her hand as she stretched for the flame, pulling and pushing at the same time. She could feel the pressure in her arm building, as did a sensation of tingling. She made a humph sound before she pulled her hand back. Instantly it felt normal. Another humph sound followed.

“Interesting” she mumbled with a raised brow. She didn’t allow herself to show what she felt as her neck bristled for a completely different reason. She knew, without turning her head that she was being watched. She also knew that she wouldn’t see the figures watching her. They were gods, and she was in their realm. Things were most certainly interesting.

She walked back to the middle of the circle as figures appeared in the shadows, judging her silently. She could hear their voices through the air, although their mouths never moved. Somehow they had not seen her as they spoke.

“I hope Sheogorath’s new one isn’t pathetic as the last”

“Oh, we already know he’ll be barking mad”

“I see you’ve already judged me before my trial” Z couldn’t help despise the people before her. She already knew they would die by her hand. The world was in trouble, and she was going to repair it. She was going to replace the champions of the gods themselves, and she was not going to rule them.

…………………………………………………………………………………

"/The night mother. Sithis came to her and bore her five sons. She killed them in his name. But did she kill them at birth? Or did she allow them to age before she committed a true sacrifice to the Dread Lord Sithis? She allowed the boys thirty years of life, each bore a child as pale as the snow with a soul darker than midnight. She slaughtered her children in Sithis' name, before her grandchildren. So she bound the curse of the hand, of the blood five. These five bloodlines of pure murder still wonder the world till this day, the true key to the survival of the Dark Brotherhood rests in their fates, and the voice of their unholy mother whom forever guides them in the absence of the Listener/”

Z gasped as she woke, shaking the words of the dream, or perhaps more so a nightmare, from her mind. She took all of three seconds before she realised she had woken in Candle Hearth, the Inn of Windhelm. She pondered paying a visit to Ulfric, but instead she shrugged the thought aside and made for Whiterun, never bothering to see if her room was paid for and her presence accounted for. She doubted anyone would remember if the Mad God had been involved.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“Where have you been?” Vilkas demanded the moment she stepped through the doors. The sight outside had left her feeling sickened with panic that Farkas had been injured. She hated the sensation, but she knew better than to deny it anymore. His safety was critical to her focus and wellbeing.

She froze as she stared at the mangled body on the floor a few paces away from her. He had been torn apart by the expertise of Vilkas with his sword, and his uncontrolled fury. She took half a second to notice claw marks in the wood and the askew back door. She swallowed as the fresh smell of fear and blood assaulted her nose like A Dragon upon the Watchtower. Even in human form she felt the wolf within her, raging to kill. This was another thing she had dealt with, and another link in her chain which bound her to Farkas, and all the Companions in a more discreet manner.

“I was doing Kodlak’s bidding. What happened here?” Z answered quickly with a question of her own. Meanwhile she glared into Vilkas’ eyes aggressively. She would not back down, but she needed to look past the hulking man before her. She flicked her eyes to the side, never letting her pleasure show as Vilkas shuffled the way she had looked. Instantly her eyes darted back to where Vilkas had blocked, which was now clear for her inspection.

The moment her eyes rested on Farkas they changed strangely. They softened lovingly for a moment before the worry flashed through them. She barely heard Vilkas’ reply as she saw the look upon Farkas’ face. He was so… lost. 

Pain. It tore her chest apart and clutched her heart with a cold fist. She couldn’t breathe for that split moment, which caused a silent gasp to escape her as she saw what held Farkas’ attention. If this was what it was like to be truly human Z cursed it with her entire being. The pain. She wished she could take it away from Farkas and carry it herself, despite it threatened to destroy her already. The burden in his eyes overcame all her rational, self-protective thinking.

“The silver hand, they finally attacked. We fought them off but… The old man… He’s…” Vilkas shook his head, choking on a sob as fresh tears escaped his icy eyes. Z finished for him, it was what she always did when no one else could. Embrace the truth and wield it.

“Dead” she growled, letting every ounce of her anger and pain boil in that single word she had never hated more. Never in her existence had such a word tasted so bitter in her mouth, stuck so firmly on her tongue. Her eyes darkened as did her expression. Her lips curled back, her brow tensed and creased as her nose wrinkled. She then begun to shake with rage, her fists curled and her eyes began to glow, or so it seemed to everyone in the hall, which suddenly seemed darker. Vilkas took a cautious step back from the volatile assassin. No one had ever seen her this far into her rage, not even with Vale.

No one knew what she would do. Many expected her to unleash her shouts of power and destroy the hall, then rampage around the town until a dragon showed up for her to kill. Others expected her to walk away and never return until she was covered in blood. Many expected her to curse, shout insults into the air before she burst into Dragon Tongue.

Z however did not scream, or curse but instead let a huge gasp escape her. It was a sound so strange to the assassin that the hall fell silent once again. No one breathed as they watched her, completely blown away by her emotional outburst thus far. She walked down the steps, around Farkas and fell to her knees with a loud thud. She had never been loud in her life. Her eyes never met Farkas as she hesitantly reached out her shaking hand to stroke the old, worn forehead of Kodlak and brush aside misplaced strands of glowing white hair.

“Ok very funny old man. Get up” she forced herself to chuckle, ignoring the tears that were falling down her cheeks onto the back of her hand. It was a single tear at first, but it startled the Companions almost as much as it did Z. She refused to wipe her eyes, sniffing as she focused, desperately trying to will him back to life.

“I did it. Kodlak I’ve done it now/ please/ get up” Z pleaded in a girls shriek. In that moment everyone saw her walls begin to crumble. Instead of an evil assassin and scary warrior, Dovahkiin, they saw the lost little girl she had always harboured. 

Farkas looked at her with brimming starlight eyes. Z lost herself in the warmth and understanding in his eyes. Despite his own pain he was willing to comfort her in her pain. She finally understood him. It was clear in her eyes that something had changed, they were no longer cold. It was then he wrapped his hand around her shoulder, testing the gesture and inviting Z into his body. She finally broke. She wept, leaning into his shoulder as Farkas placed his protective arm around her and held her into him.

Both of them remained sitting there in shocked silence after Z’s almost silent sobs died down. They rocked back and forth in each other’s arms as they tried to comfort each other. Farkas knew how, but he didn’t have any more strength to give. Z had all the strength to give, but she didn’t know how to give it to him.

Eventually Farkas let his own contained sob out and hung his head, pulling away from Z. She stared for a moment before she reached out and touched his temple with her hand gently, cupping his head before she pulled him into her as he had with his arm. Farkas rested his head in her lap, letting his tears flow freely. Eventually Z leaned down, using her flexibility to rest her cheek against his. She could feel his breaths against her neck, tickling as her nose found his pulse point.

In all of this neither of them said a word to the other.

Not one word.


	28. Chapter 28 - The Devil’s Eyes

Days had passed. Completely silent, mournful days. No one had been able to utter a word of comfort to either Farkas or Z. The two had shut down as much as the other, sitting silently together while resting against one another closely. If it had been any other occasion it would have been considered sweet, but now it was just viewed in silent shock. It was sad that Death had brought them closer.

“Farkas?” Z whispered his name softly, staring at the star filled skies above. She could feel Farkas’ warm arm around her shoulders, his cheek against the top of her head as she rested her own head on his shoulder. She had never felt so close to someone before, yet she knew she couldn’t enjoy it at this time. She had to be there for Farkas as he was there for her. It was a balance she was finding a relief. She did not always have to act cold around him. It shocked her how fast this had crept up on her but she was not going to complain. She loved the big man wrapped around her. She loved him.

“Yes dear?” he whispered softly in return. He was still hurt; the sorrow was thick in his voice and sluggish actions. To anyone but Z or his brother it would seem he had shut down, but Z could see he still fought against the emotion. He had accepted it but refused to surrender to it. He had accepted he would be slow and tired. He had accepted the pity he would receive, even though both he and Z rejected it. Most of all, he had accepted Z’s confused comfort.

“What would Kodlak do if one of us had died?” she winced at her own question, despite her soft and scared tone. She had managed to ignore the fluttering in her heart at the endearment Farkas had used for her as if it was second nature, but she did not ignore the way Farkas’ arm tensed for a brief moment around her. Whether it was rage or sorrow, she could not tell.

“He would say that we brought this upon ourselves. Instead of allowing Skjor’s death to be avenged by taking the lives of the ones who killed him, we attacked their order and wiped several camps out. We waged war and brought this attack upon ourselves. He would do nothing to avenge. He would only mourn and honour” Farkas informed finally, his voice strangely proud and strong in the fact. Z closed her eyes and sighed. She accepted the fact that she and Farkas were very different people, and nothing she could do would change him. It was one reason she admired him, loved him even.

“I was so scared it was you” Z stated. She closed her eyes fearfully as the images came back, the thumping in her heart and the closing of her throat. She felt Farkas pull away a little, she knew his shining eyes would be pinned on her face, watching every little move she made with heightened interest and judgement. She sighed and continued on before she lost her nerve.

“I was so afraid you had died when I didn’t see you with Aela and Vale. I thought those bastards had taken you and all I could feel was loss. I coul… couldn’t hate them enough to kill them. I couldn’t hate enough to love. Is that enough for you? Am I?” She kept her eyes closed for a moment before she opened them and stared ahead into a flaming torch. She was afraid of the answer, but she knew she had to hear it before she made the biggest mistake of her life.

“It is more than I ever could have hope for from you” his sincere answer made Z catch her breath. She felt the cold in the pit of her stomach twist triumphantly. She knew what her loss would be now, and she regretted it immensely. She found herself wishing she was someone else. Someone who could accept the love offered and never look back. But she knew. She knew her loyalty would be her death. Her sacrifice. 

“I love you” She whispered to him softly, lifting her hand to his throat in a gentle caress that would soon turn deadly. She could feel his pulse under her fingers. She could feel the slight movements of his throat as he breathed. She felt the vibrations as he spoke in reply.

“I love you too” his voice held no lies. It was the voice of honesty that Z knew she did not deserve. She closed her eyes for a moment before she spoke, allowing him to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, then tightened her grip. She felt the cold band of metal that she had hidden around her finger; she felt the small needle pierce Farkas’ skin, releasing her poison into his blood. She contained a sob as his eyes went wide. He knew what she had done instantly. His eyes held no anger or resentment towards her though, only a grim understanding.

“I love you too” he repeated again, his eyes remaining on Z’s for a split second before they rolled back into his head and he fell limply to the ground. Z sat paralysed as she felt the warm arm slide from her shoulders, hand still trying to hold onto her. She felt the sense of loss build within her as Farkas grew further and further away from her realm of the living. 

At least he would be dead when she committed the biggest betrayal to him she could possibly commit. Avenge Kodlak’s death.

 

……………………………………………………………………………..

 

She had nothing to lose sitting outside Driftshade Refuge. The snow embraced her form and turned her into its resting place, yet she did not move. She waited silently and waited well for dusk to fall and the full moon to rise. She was not there for vengeance on her behalf, but on her hearts. He was there to avenge Kodlak for Farkas, and the companions that had become her family.

Her heart beat faster as the night came on. Her senses increased to smell the simple lives she would end through the snow and stone. Her eyes saw things in the darkness as a Nord never would. She felt the cool as the black mist crept up her form and began to melt away, guiding her snow white fur over her body as she grew and morphed into her new shape with cracking bones and snapping muscles.

She looked down her wolf form, surprised she kept her mind in its entirety. She was snow white, with a single black line down her nose. Z assumed it ran down her back to her tail, when she saw the black line down her tail also. She was shocked to discover her gauntlets had grown to cover down the outside of her wolfish arms. She also had leather embracing her neck and down her chest right to the apex between her legs, saving her modesty.

“Interesting” she barked, amused she could understand herself. She smelt the fear spike in Driftshade, which only made her all the more eager to tear through them all for her loss.

“/Farkas…/” Again she mourned the loss she had caused, but it had been the only way. She looked up to the moon, seeing it shining the colour of her eyes. She couldn’t help it anymore. She howled to the skies loudly, sealing the Silver Hand’s fate.

………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“She belongs to Sithis, mad prince” The Night mother’s voice was cold and furious, despite its ghostly aspect. Z groaned and buried her snout in the snow, trying to wash the blood of her first three kills away to clear her sense of smell.

“Ohho no. She’s typically insane, slightly homicidal. She’s mine” Sheogorath deployed his own voice with a chuckle. Z again rolled her eyes, staring at the moon that fuelled her.

“She is one of the…”

“Well, someone’s going to let the cat out of the bag! Cat’s hate bags, as I’ve said before. You know, she reminds me of myself at a young age. All I cared about was riding narwhales, and sleeping in honeycombs and drinking babies’ tears”

“You truly are the Madgod” The Nightmother growled.

“Do you mind? I’m busy doing the fishstick. It’s a very delicate state of mind!” Sheogorath retorted.

“Can you take your argument out of my head!” Z finally whinned, scratching her snout with a large paw. Paw. It was an interesting change, yet it was one Z found strangely comforting. She did not wait for their answer as she ran into the large door blocking her way, dismantling it from its rusty hinges as she continued into the refuge to kill every Silver Hand member she saw.

…………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Pain. It was the first thing that registered in Z’s mind as the staff hit her across her side. The wood splintered and broke from the impact, but it left the wolf whimpering for a moment. It never stopped Z’s mind as she looked the room over, where the Silver Hand members lay dead or stood fighting. She ducked the swipe of a sword and launched, feeling her jaws close around the flesh of an unguarded arm.

The skin broke so easily under her large razor-sharp teeth. The flesh backed into her mouth, running along her sensitive tongue with the metallic taste of blood. She craved the taste as she shook her head from side to side, feeling the flesh tear around her teeth and savouring the screams of pain from the warrior.

She released him and swiped her paw, throwing him into the wall and hearing the bones snap upon impact. She did not wait to see if he was dead, she simply leapt and landed upon the other warrior in the room. One. Two. Three. She lashed in with her paws, talons tearing the armor and flesh away like they were made of wisp wrappings. She continued to claw and snarl until she felt her claws scratch against the ground behind the warriors back. Satisfied she had torn through his chest she loped away towards the next room, already feeling the black mist seeping away from her body.

She was startled when her transformation into a human was complete. She wore her armor, which every dagger still in its rightful place. Her body however was covered in blood. Her mouth was filled with the metallic, sweet taste, her nails and hands felt grimy with blood and flesh that stained them. Her face and exposed flesh were stained crimson. It suited her just fine.

She retracted her steps quickly as she stood before the door. With a sigh she opened it, only to stare into the eyes of her own, personal devil and the moon of her life.

Her personal devil was not the most ugly creature, with evil horns and balding head. Her own personal devil had midnight hair, with streaks of grey teasing a few roots of midnight locks. Her skin was tanned, her hands bore no marks of a day’s work. Her face was almost identical to Vale’s, except the worn lines and sweet green eyes. Her ears were hidden, but Z knew them to be pointed. The woman was tall, especially for a Wood Elf.

“Z” The elf greeted her coolly, backed by more soldiers than Z knew were possible to hide and have move so quietly. 

Z controlled her fury, although it drove her to tremble with its intensity. She saw nothing but this woman, holding a blade to Farkas’ throat like she owned him. Z couldn’t decide how she felt about Farkas surviving her attempt to murder him, only that her eyes were filled with unshed tears. She managed to ignore that side of herself as she glared at the Wood Elf and growled a simple name.

“Valana Valore”


	29. Chapter 29 – Unbreakable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This Chapter is probably an M even though I did try to keep it vague. Torture. Rape. Mental Abuse.   
> Big warnings.

Z stared as Farkas was pushed to his knees in the deep snow and a blade put at his throat as extra security. She knew the moment she saw his eyes that she had lost herself to whatever he had begun to forge her into. He was the moon of her life, her strength and weakness. He had forever changed her in such a way that she would never truly be able to recover herself, and yet she was more herself than she had ever been before. The assassin of the past would have killed Farkas for them, then unleashed hell. Instead Z stood with her arms outspread, daggers in her grip tightly as she locked eyes with Farkas. The air fell silent as his eyes widened in a silent plea for help. Tears gathered on the silver as his hair was pulled harder, dagger piercing the skin ever so slightly. 

The rage that had claimed him didn’t show in the now scared man. The Silver Hand warriors around felt touched as a tear fell from Z’s eyes, their stony blue suddenly warming as if they had been exposed to a Dragon’s fire. She silently reassured Farkas, promising to save him no matter what. Farkas was rarely scared, but they had witnessed what happened to Werewolves and they were both members of the circle.

“It’s lovely to finally see the woman you’ve become” Valana paused and looked down at Farkas with an expression indicating she only just saw the man truly. The green eyes bubbled with merriment as Z stared down at Farkas, throat constricting and threatening to silence her warning snarl.

“Friend of yours?” She asked casually, flicking the blade against Farkas’ throat ever so slightly. Z jumped, eyes widening in momentary horror. The assassin cursed herself; she had just given her hand away to the Wood Elf who defiled her order and now her heart.

“No need to speak, your reaction gave you away. I’m surprised at you Z, I thought you only shagged animals and yet this stud is a Nord. A pureblood Nord, no less. How interesting” The Elf was trying to speak as Z had, stealing the persona and movements to a T. Z however was intimidated not by the persona, but the knowledge that Farkas would die either way unless she gave Valana something good. Something she wanted more than Z’s pain. Realisation sunk into her gut like a chained up pig would in a river. The only way to save Farkas was by surrendering herself.

“He’s worth it” Z admitted openly, looking into the silver eyes as she spoke. They widened in shock as he begun to understand the danger Z was placing herself in by admitting this.

“So, he is important to you then?” Valana almost laughed when Z nodded, but the Nordic Assassin had many an edge over Valana when it came to personality and control. If only Farkas was not there.

“He is the moon of my life” Z answered, staring into his eyes with softened eyes. There was something hidden within her gaze, seeking his permission for something he couldn’t quite understand. He gave her a gesture with his eyes, instantly seeing the hardness return to Z’s eyes before she spoke.

“And he is my heart. Kill him and you will have to deal with me without my humanity” Z broke eye contact with Farkas to glare around the army of Silver Hand warriors. She did notice how Valana brought the blade away from Farkas’ throat; she also heard the stretching of wood and string as arrows were pointed at her.

“You could not kill us all” Valana pointed out.

“Perhaps not. But do you wish to risk your life to kill a single man?” Z asked. The Wood Elf considered this for a moment before she spoke.

“Drop your weapons, and he can go free”

“No!” Farkas growled, struggling to get closer to Z as he snarled. Two men stepped forwards and grabbed him by the shoulders as Valana pushed the dagger against his throat tightly once again. All struggling ceased.

Z thought for a moment, then decided. She locked her eyes with Farkas’ once again, summing up every emotion she had for him in a single moment. When he saw the look in her eyes he stopped struggling and stared. They silently communicated for a moment before Z spoke, her words were directed to him and her feelings rather than Valana, but none but Farkas and Z knew this.

“I surrender” Her daggers fell to the snows, forever to be lost as she was hit roughly over the back of the head.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

She refused to break. She hung by her arms, with ropes around her ankles and shoulders suspended over a triangular device. They had used it on her spine and lower back, pinning her to it then using their cruel hands to bend her backwards slowly until the pain was almost unbearable. She refused to cry, or even utter a sound. In her torture, she was silently impenetrable. The rookies torturing her were baffled as they broke her fingers again and again, having a mage cure the bones as they continued. Twenty Seven. Twenty Seven times her pinkie on her right hand had been broken. Forty Two times had her pointer on her left been smashed with a hammer until the bones pierced skin. They had beaten here until her skin was purple and blue with the horrid yellow bruising. Her naked body was left to the cold, touched, yet never completely violated in their methods to break her. She had never screamed, disassociating from the pain and losing herself in those silver eyes that were burned into her closed eyelids. Voices reassured her, promised she could have revenge if she fought through this. Z ignored them. She ignored the voices of gods in an attempt to remember the voice of one man. She was helpless and hopelessly in love with Farkas. She found herself venturing over their rough arguments and foul words, harsh looks and kicks to each other’s knees under the table. The memories made her chuckle. Such adults, the dim-witted Warrior and the cold-hearted Assassin, together countering each other and becoming no better than squabbling children.

“Wake up Whore” the first guard growled, smacking a wooden cane into his hand with a purely evil look. Z had been darkness itself, but she had never been hatred. She had never been this.

“We’ve got something special planned for you, you filthy little slut” the second chimed with an evil laughter, his hands working his belt. Z froze as she realised her body was positioned.

They were going to finally do it. Whatever woman’s grace had spared her the rock bottom torture had finally snapped. She was to be violated in every way, as a torture. She knew whatever they did wouldn’t kill her, despite it would be deadly. Their mage was the best Z had met at healing, obviously trained for this very thing. All dangerous wounds were healed, but her bruising was not.

“Fuck you, arseholes,” Z growled back. Her silence was broken with such venom the men winced before they forced their laughter.

“She knows what we had planned, pity”

“And where” The second guard looked, turning to whisper into his comrades ear. Z winced, noting how her body was pulled until it was no longer her lower back, but her read positioned at the spike. The second continued stripping off as the first tightened the ropes. Z openly gasped as she saw weights been brought over to her. The torturer rubbed them up her legs with a cruel smile then bound them to her legs. This dropped her weight further onto the point, and strained her muscles enough that she began to feel the tearing. It was agony, but she would not give in. Farkas had treated her roughly sometimes; she could endure this… right?

The stripped guard stood before her, running his hands up her thighs as he chuckled. The other guards came up beside her head, watching the shadows in her eyes as the guard touched her. She struggled to shut her legs, wincing with the pain as weights and rope resisted, dropping her body further onto the spike. It was then the guard pushed his hips forwards, entering her with his longing manhood. Z arched her body with the pain. She was as dry as bone, so his none to gentle entrance hurt even more. She was not turned on like the guard; she did not want this man. She focused on keeping her body as relaxed as possible, ignoring the grunting of the guard as he got himself off by violating her. She didn’t enjoy his company, nor did she allow him the pleasure of hearing her scream. As it turned out the guard had little to no experience with women because it was barely two minutes later he came with an earth shuddering roar, which may as well have been a squeak for the attention Z gave it. The guards looked irritated as the next stripped his belt and released his own desire. Z almost rolled her eyes as a knife was run down her body in places she ignored. They tried it all, every inch she moved ached with the spike she was sat upon. She did not break.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“What the fuck is wrong with this bitch?” The guard demanded, standing away from Z as she recuperated from the violent gang rape she had endured. The guards had done everything they could think of, and besides the whimpers Z rarely let free she had not made any gesture that she was in pain. Her eyes were dark, so dark they were mistaken for black. The rage she felt was buried beneath a cold persona. If she freed any emotion they would all break free.

“Let’s go her again. This filthy whore will break” The second growled.

“Let’s use oil. I hear that can be painful” a third added. Z just rolled her eyes, despite the pain through her body, the guards barely were able to organise their torture and organising rape was funny stuff in Z’s mind. The guards were pathetic in her mind, thinking they had power when they had not done anything Z had not trained for her entire life with the Dark Brotherhood. 

“We should break more bones. We got some sounds out of her then” The first tipped in.

“Yes! Let’s call that goddamn mage” The third spoke again.

“Filthy Half Elf. I would be a lot warmer and a lot happier with a belly full of mead” The second complained.

“Let’s go get something to drink first. It’s not as if she’s going anywhere”

The guards left, allowing Z to finally succumb to her exhaustion.

“/Sleep well, dear child/” The Nightmother’s reassuring voice calmed Z as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

 

………………………………………………………………………….

 

When she woke her body hurt in a new way, one she knew would only mean a new way to try and break her. She feels the metal cuffs around her wrists, weighed down with heavy chains which connected to the chair. Z could tell her entire body is bare, exposed to a strategic cold draft. She knew this trick well; it was one of her own. The howls and screams of pain surrounding her didn’t unnerve her as expected. She silently swore to keep as silent as she possibly could. She could feel how weak she was; even chained in a chair her body flopped like a sack of iron ore.

“She refuses to break” The guard growled. Z would have tilted her head if she had the strength; instead, she simply closed her swollen eyes to hear the plaintive tone in the guard’s voice. He was deathly afraid of whoever he was complaining to. The footsteps were light, which indicated a wizard or someone in light garb. Someone trained to torture her.

“We will try her fingernails. No one can resist that for long” The wheezy voice is old and experienced. Z herself cringed, already knowing he would draw screams from her stone strong mind. He would not break her however. She began to formulate the plan in her mind, a way to show she was strong after raising their hopes but the guard’s voice rung again.

“We have broken her fingers more times than the wizard advised. She did not even scream once”

“I am not some inexperienced Wizard” The wheezy voice declared. Z heard the footsteps stop before the door to her chamber. She fought with herself to make herself completely serene. She was going to scare this wheezy man, and she was going to break him as he tried to break her.

“We raped her” the guard declared viciously, his voice filled with pride at his small accomplishment. Z smirked despite herself. Their foolish attempts had been little more than annoyance. She had endured worse when on many jobs, by her own begging. Their attempts she had not had to pretend she enjoyed.

“I am not some crass guard, either” wheezy declares again, sounding almost sickened by the idea, by the pride in the guard’s voice. The old, thin man opened the door, pausing when he gazed straight into Z’s deep eyes. 

“I’m glad to hear it” she said with a small smile, one she knew would set his blood boiling with either lust or anger. Maybe a mix of both. He froze, breathing hard as she stared at her. Z laughed lightly as she watched his reaction. Oh, he was going to be easy.

He seemed to regain his composure as he walked over to Z, holding a small object in his frail, bony hand. Z sighed as he gripped her wrist, lining the blade up with her middle fingers nail. He slowly pressed the blade it, ignoring the way Z’s body instantly tensed. He slid the blade to the bone, twisting it slowly as Z bit into her lip to resist screaming. Blood filed her mouth from how hard she bit down; this had never been done to her before. When the blade jerked up she couldn’t resist. Her head flew back until it connected harshly with the back of the chair. She held back tears as her eyes snapped shut, trying to zone away from the fire coursing from her finger.

“Farkas!” She screamed. She pleaded for him in a cry that held none of her cold edge, only a pleading note of pain and agony mixed with desperation. It mattered not to her what she screamed or how she had sounded. She screamed.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

She lost track of how long she had been chained when she was shifted to yet another device. She was forced to stand as her hands were bound by leather to the rack. It was only used to hold her, not to torture her. It mattered not. The burns down the soles of her feet were agonising. Valana stood before her, taunting her. Spilling every little ounce of venom into statements Z knew were not true.

“You killed him, Z. He trusted you and you showed your true nature and killed him” Valana taunted, tracing a solitary finger across Z’s throat before she rested her fingertip against Z’s pulse point. She pressed down a little, showing exactly where Z had driven the needle into Farkas’ skin.

There was no denying the way her heart pounded faster and faster as the fury built within her like dragon fire. It burned through everything, utterly destroying all resistance Z put up to conquer the rage and remain calm. Her brow creased and her nostrils flared as she curled a lip up in a defiant snarl.

“No” Z declared in a whisper. Her fiery defiance only proved amusing to the Wood Elf, who believed she had utterly defeated the assassin bound before her. She didn’t know she was only awakening an ancient power.

“You treated him like an animal, a plaything. You fucked him to rise to power, then you killed him. Just like the animal you both are” Valana continued tracing a slit line down Z’s throat, pausing to trace another scar across Z’s body. The assassin put a quick struggle up as she growled in warning, trying to resist the way Valana explored her naked body like an unknown land.

“Don’t you dare call him an animal!” Z growled, leaning towards Valana and spitting violently. The Elf laughed in her face.

“Your precious Companions are crushed” Valana continued to walk away, pacing out of Z’s reach. The assassin felt like she was on fire as she wiggled her fingers, trying to relax herself by focusing all her rage into her fingertips.

“Your family is defiled” Valana pointed out proudly, staring into the abyss of Z’s enraged eyes.

“I intend to destroy the Dark Brotherhood. I will be a hero in the land, and you shall be the perfect patsy for my crimes. I’ve won, and I will take your pet” Valana continued ranting, never noticing how Z’s hands curled into tight fists. Her knuckles went whiter than the snow she held her fists held so tightly.

“The Companions, the Dark brotherhood. They are destroyed” Valana stood proudly before Z, staring into her eyes with an evil glee. Z felt everything fade away. Every ounce of pain was suddenly non-existent. Her strength had returned. Her blood was boiling. She was invincible.

“You can never destroy us” Z spoke. Somehow her voice echoed. It was the moment she realised something. She was not alone. The dead drove her actions; the souls of the Five of the past added their strength as she tore one of her hands free. She never felt the pain as her wrist broke, but she knew it would hurt later. Valana backed away, clearly frightened.

“The Brotherhood is forever. The Blood of the Five will run through this world for decades to come. We shall rule the shadows. Every land will need us, murder is eternal. Your crusade shall end when our vessel drives her dagger through your chest, and she shall embrace her destiny” Z heard the words that escaped her mouth but she held no control. She fought and fought but she could not change the actions her body carried out against her will. Eventually she felt herself fading away, only to hear a few words in her mind of four voices. Two she knew awfully well.

“Welcome home, sister”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is posted on Fanfiction and I FINALLY got onto this site and figured I may as well post this here. 
> 
> This story contains violence, references to abuse of all kinds, some rather out there deaths, deception ((Always a favorite)) and a twist on the world of Skyrim. I shall be up front about this.
> 
> In my skyrim there is more than 1 dragonborn. As the greybeards say, the Dovahkiin is the only one they KNOW of but it is possible to be more than one.


End file.
